


Dirty Deeds

by NeuroWriter14



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannibalism, Character Death, Dark Will Graham, Do not repost, Episode: s02e09 Shiizakana, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Kinda, M/M, Sex, There's a lot of sex, like rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: What if Will's father wasn't dead? What if things went a little differently after the attack by Randall Tier? What if?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 271
Kudos: 502





	1. Chapter 1

Will walked along the edge of the lake. He hadn't set foot here in years, hadn't seen these brackish waters. That was another lifetime and another Will Graham. He wasn't the same person who had walked these shores before. He watched the sway of the water and the way the sun bounced off the waves. No matter how different he was, the lake was always the same. The lake was unchanging, even if the man who walked it was different than the boy who first discovered it. He bent for a moment, grasping a stone that he knew was along the shore and tossed it in his hand for a second. He stood, watching the water ripple slightly before turning his body and flicking the rock. It bounced on the surface but didn't go very far due to the unrest on the surface. He watched as the rock sank, falling below. It was calmer under the surface, despite the turmoil from the breeze on top.

If that wasn't Will himself, he didn't know what was. 

It was significantly warmer here than it was back in Wolf Trap, Virginia; enough warmer in fact that Will wore only one layer. Idly, he wondered how Hannibal would fare with his three piece suits and his shiny shoes. Where Will grew up, Hannibal would have been dirty within seconds. His mind manifested Hannibal next to him and no matter how much he tried to push the image of the man away, he stayed watching Will as he always did with a slight smirk. Will turned away and back toward the path he was currently walking. 

He had decided to take this journey alone, a chance to take a step back from Hannibal Lecter and the sphere of madness the man had around him. Hannibal was chaos bound in human flesh. And Will had been so wrapped in the world that was Hannibal Lecter, he forgot that other things existed outside of it. Of course, it was the middle of night when he had this brilliant idea to travel across the country. 

Louisiana.

His childhood home and even that of his adulthood as well. He had returned to New Orleans to be a cop, and after he left, that was the last time he stepped foot in the state. No cases brought him to here, he had no real reason visit.

Except one.

Will walked toward the small dock on the edge of the lake and the boat that had just pulled in next to it. There was a man on the dock, kneeling as he tied his boat. Will neared, not saying anything yet, but instead just watching until he was closer. His shoes echoed along the wood of the dock as the man stood, turning toward the sounds nearing him. 

The man had curly salt and pepper hair, callused and abused hands, and wrinkles which framed ocean-colored eyes. His shoulders were slumped as though he bared the weight of the world. He had a thick mustache and beard which matched the salt and pepper of his hair. He was the same height as Will and was nearly identical in most ways. 

Most.

Will stopped a few feet away and the two of them took each other in, scanning and evaluating.

"Hi, Dad."

* * *

Will dragged Randall Tier's body to his car. The body had occupied a significant spot on his floor for several minutes as he boarded up the window on through which Tier crashed. Hannibal would likely find amusement in the fact that while Will worked on his task of boarding his window, he couldn't help but think Tier's dramatic crashing into his house as rude. He couldn't leave the house without reinforcing the window, though, seeing as how he would be leaving the dogs there while he drove the hour long drive to Hannibal's house. Once the window was reinforced and the house sealed once more, Will began stripping Tier of his suit. He would deal with that later, but the man was much easier to move when it was just him and not the advanced engineering he wore to bypass the limits of his human body. 

The drive to Baltimore was grueling and long, even though it was just him and the body in the back. There were very few people on the road at the time, the evening rush having past and the after dinner rush not yet begun. Hannibal would likely be returning from his last patient just after Will arrived, if he knew the man's schedule well enough.

And he did.

Will pulled around the back of the building where he and his car would remain unseen. Hannibal never pulled fully back behind the building. He was far too arrogant and predatory to do such a thing. His Bentley hung out, daring someone to damage it and deal with the monster in the driver's seat. 

Will hauled the body inside, bringing it to the dining room. Hannibal always went for the kitchen after he returned home, this night would be no different. 

Will had just managed to pull the body onto the table and move to the other side of the table when the front door opened. Adrenaline still rushed through his veins once more. Though his heart remained steady. Instead, his senses increase. He could hear more, see more, feeling more. He was well aware of everything that was happening and the exact moment Hannibal neared, about to step into the dining room.

He didn't bother looking up as the other man entered, only staring at the body between them. 

Their resulting conversation was nothing different than any of the roundabout conversations they had been having recently.

Until it wasn't.

"Don't go inside, Will. You'll want to retreat. You'll want it as the glint of the rail tempts us when we hear the approaching train. Stay with me."

"Where else would I go?"

"You have everywhere else to go." 

Will found himself focusing on Hannibal's tenderness. He was gentle when he raised Will's hand to examine it. He was gentle when he washed and now as he was bandaging them. 

_Stay with me._

Will watched the other man out of the corner of his eye. Hannibal had shed his overcoat and suit coat, sitting next to Will with his white shirt sleeves rolled up. He found himself paying more and more attention to the other man, watching his care of Will's hand as though it were something precious. Will's body tensed under the contact, something that had never happened with Hannibal before. Even now, after everything he knew, Hannibal's touch was the only one he didn't just tolerate. He wanted Hannibal's touch. He wanted the eye contact and the intensity between them.

He knew exactly why was he was tensing right now. 

He and Hannibal had no shortage of intimate moments. Every interaction between them, even before the death of Garret Jacob Hobbs was by far much more intimate than any experience he had with anyone else. It was as though Hannibal could see directly into his soul and decided to show his in return, in the best way he knew how that is. Hannibal had yet to let go of him, smoothing over the bandage over his knuckles. Will's hand turned, flipping around and pressing their palms together. 

Why he felt the need to do so, he didn't know. But he was suddenly very glad he did. Hannibal was not one to be easily taken by surprise. But his eyes widened just so slightly, and his pupils dilated. His breath hitched for just a moment. Will had been trying to set a honey trap for Hannibal. To lure him under the guise of giving Hannibal something that he wanted. He had forgotten one thing though.

Will wanted it too. Desperately. 

And he wanted Hannibal, no matter how much he told himself he didn't. He wanted to be seen, he wanted to be known by Hannibal. Mostly because he knew he could see Hannibal in return. And not in the way he saw most people, or the way most people saw Hannibal. Everything was so much deeper between them as if their very souls were bared and bound between them. 

He denied it and he denied it to everyone. He denied to Jack, Alana, and hell even Frederick Chilton. He denied it to himself, even on long nights with alcohol on board, he could never force himself to admit how he wanted. And then he would fall asleep and he would dream of only Hannibal Lecter. 

Hannibal's hand didn't leave his but instead his fingers curled slightly, pressing against the pulse in his wrist. He would be greeted with a steady heart rate as Will forced his eyes to Hannibal's. 

Their hands seemed to flex at the same time until their fingers were wrapped around the other's wrists. 

Hannibal was watching him and Will could almost hear the cogs turning within his mind. He wondered what Will thinking. He wondered if this advance was something more. He wondered a great deal, enough that it made him — Hannibal Lecter of all people — hesitate. Will searched his eyes, watching the way they seemed to shift in the light. He had never met someone who's eyes danced the way Hannibal's did. 

He didn't know who lunged first. 

The edge of the table jutted harshly into his ribs as he leaned, his lips colliding with Hannibal's in the harshest kiss he had ever partaken in. Not that it surprised him. Hannibal's grip on his wrist became almost brutal, clutching him as though he were about to slip through the other's fingers. Will's other hand gripped the fabric at Hannibal's shoulder while Hannibal, ever the one to be intimate, cupped the side of his face as he had done before after everything that happened with Clark Ingram. 

Will felt like he was drowning as his grip on Hannibal's wrist became equally as harsh. And oh did he revel in it. Only with Hannibal could he revel in his violence for what it was, and only with Hannibal could he find someone who reveled in their own just as much. 

They were standing before Will knew what was happening as the other shifted his hand to pull at Will's hair, pulling his head back just slightly. Hannibal used the angle to pillage his mouth and it wasn't long before Will pulled free to do the same. Their bodies moved around the table, grasping at each other as they pulled one another closer. Will moved them until Hannibal's back was pressed against the wall. Hannibal's grip only became tighter. Will leaned his weight more against the other, glad to find that there was no resistance, only acceptance. 

It wasn't until Hannibal's hands drifted over his lower back that he became aware of himself once again.

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

Will had a choice to make and he couldn't help but think about it as he and Hannibal pulled apart. Hannibal was watching him with keen eyes, likely sensing the sudden hesitation within him. But he didn't let go. He found himself contemplating his choices, the places he could go, while still clinging to Hannibal. The other watched him closely, evaluating every movement as he saw it. They both knew what any further continuation of their relationship would mean, how much more it would wrap them around each other. Will and Hannibal were already so tightly wound around one another, that Will was starting to lose where he ended and Hannibal began. 

The other seemed to sense his internal dilemma and reached up, softly placing his hand on the side of Will's face and letting his thumb stroke over his cheekbone. Hannibal had done something like this before. And Will hadn't reacted, no matter the fact that part of him wanted to lean into that touch. Hannibal pushed off the wall after a moment, moving his body away from Will's. He stared at the spot the other once occupied, feeling surprisingly cold and empty when his hand shot out, catching Hannibal by the wrist. 

He wasn't thinking anymore, he didn't want to debate himself. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want any of it. He didn't want the situation Hannibal had put him in. He didn't want the fact he was more than likely going to be forced to choose between Hannibal and Jack. And he didn't want to. Over and over the thought that often came to him in BSCHI and beyond was, he would have kept Hannibal's secret if the other had just told him. He kept his secret when he thought that he and Abigail covered up a murder. He kept the other's secret even when he didn't truly understand it. There was no way Hannibal could have come out of a fight with another killer with as little damage as he did, and yet after Tobias Budge, Hannibal was perfectly fine. And then there was the night Hannibal had saved the man in the ambulance. Will had gone over that night, after everything was said and done, with the intention of confronting his suspicions. And yet he had bought a bottle of wine along the way. Because Hannibal's darkness didn't bother him. He reveled in it. Being near to it, and to Hannibal himself, was the most real and true to himself he had ever felt. There was no need for a mask with Hannibal. 

Besides, it was just sex. If he wanted to lure Hannibal into a trap, this was easily the best way to do it. Hadn't he been trying to do this very thing the whole time? Seduce and lure Hannibal Lecter? 

It didn't take much to tug Hannibal back to him, the two of them colliding in another kiss. Will's grip was like a vice on Hannibal's wrist, not wanting him to leave again. His other hand moved to the back of Hannibal's head, holding the other in place. 

He had wanted this. Before. Before he knew that it was Hannibal who framed him. Before he knew about Abigail. And a part of him, an incredibly large part, still wanted it now. 

Hannibal, though, still seemed to wonder about his dilemma. He pulled away, looking over at the body on the table. 

"You owe Randall Tier a debt," Hannibal said quietly. "How will you repay him?" 

"Later," Will muttered, burying his face in Hannibal's neck. 

"Things will spoil if you leave them for too long."

"You have a freezer," Will answered bluntly. He pulled back, grasping Hannibal's face between his hands. "Later." 

Hannibal's amber eyes searched his. There was a strange amount of vulnerability in them and Will wondered how long Hannibal had wanted something similar. 

"I trust you can carry him." 

Will nodded.

Going down into Hannibal's basement — the door hidden within the confines of his pantry — should have been enough to have Will tucking and running. He could go to Jack right now. Hannibal would likely have cleaned every bit of this place, but it was enough to have people asking the right questions and going in the right direction. But instead, Will dutifully followed, setting the body down in the freezer. For a moment, he thought Hannibal might close the door on him. How simple it would be. He would freeze alongside the body he made and the two of them could be easily disposed of. He even gave Hannibal a chance to do it, waiting for a moment for the door to close.

And then he walked out. 

Hannibal stood by the door, waiting for Will's exit before shutting it behind him. The body would be easier to deal with frozen anyway. It must have been hard for Hannibal to turn his back on Will, but that's exactly what he did as he moved up the stairs and back into his house. Will felt the same choice he had earlier, but surprisingly it was easier to make. Maybe because he already made it. 

He walked up the steps, finding Hannibal waiting at the top. The other watched him, the way a predator might watch their prey. 

Or their mate.

Will watched Hannibal shut the pantry door. There was an odd silence between them, which was strange for two people who talked quite often. Will wasn't one to talk much, but with Hannibal, he felt he could never stop. Hannibal began to move through the house, giving Will the option to follow him. He did. How strange they found themselves doing the same dance over and over even though they both knew what they wanted and both had started down that path, only to give the other a chance to step off it. 

The other stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking over his shoulder at where Will stood. He walked closer, standing in front of Hannibal. The other's hand moved upward, grasping his hip and pulling him forward. 

"You seem hesitant, Doctor." Will let his long-repressed southern accent slip into his voice at Hannibal's title. 

"I know what I want, Will." 

"So, your hesitation is because you think I don't know what I want." 

He didn't need Hannibal's verbal confirmation to know that's exactly what the other was thinking. He reached out, gently plucking Hannibal's wrist from his side. The other had long since rolled up his sleeves to bandage Will's hand, which flexed as his side. But he was focused on something else. The long, thin scar on Hannibal's wrist, that was mirrored on the other hand. The other watched him closely, hair falling into his eyes and lips parted slightly. He pressed his lips against the other's scar, hearing Hannibal let out a sigh at the action. The other's grip tightened on his hip, drawing him closer. 

Will turned meeting Hannibal's lips. He didn't even know if the other meant to lean forward, but the moment their lips met again, he found that the two of them were leaning against each other, practically trying to mold themselves together. The walk up the stairs was done awkwardly since neither of them seemed to want to let the other go or move out of their shared kiss. Will shifted his grip on Hannibal as the two of them entered the bedroom, the door shutting behind them. He lifted his bandaged hand, forgetting about it until he realized he couldn't feel much of Hannibal's face under his palm. 

Hannibal turned slightly, grasping Will's hand and pressing a kiss against his injured knuckles through the bandage. Will shuddered. Violence shouldn't be anywhere near as erotic as it was for the two of them. Yet the act of kissing the scars on Hannibal's wrist had been enough to draw Hannibal in, and the tenderness with Will's own injuries was enough to make him shudder. In truth, he craved the violence and he wanted to share it with Hannibal. 

Their lips met again, just as harsh as the kisses that began this whole endeavor. Hannibal pulled him closer before the two of them were moving backward. Will's back collided with the door and he let out a small groan. The gentleness Hannibal was exhibiting before was gone. The only way Will could describe him was ravenous as Hannibal pushed against him, his tongue exploring Will's mouth. He had never seen Hannibal with as little control as he had at this moment. It was intoxicating to Will. He wanted to see him come undone completely, and he wanted to know that he was the cause of it. 

Hannibal's mouth moved to his neck and Will turned his head to give him access. The other bit and sucked at his pulse point, gentle enough not to leave a mark but hard enough that Will could feel it. Part of him wanted Hannibal to leave a mark. There was no other person he'd rather feel claimed by and who he so wanted to claim in return. 

His hands were fumbling with Hannibal's vest, brought out of his task but the distraction that was Hannibal Lecter. Eventually, he managed to undo it and pull it off Hannibal, discarding it somewhere behind him. Hannibal's hands began working on his shirt while he untucked Hannibal's before attacking the buttons.

There were too many clothes. Too little shared between them. 

Hannibal didn't bother undoing Will's shirt all the way before he was attacking his collarbone, memorizing the curve of it with his tongue and nipping along the way. The only time the other's hands left him was when Will managed to pull off his shirt. And then Hannibal's hands were back once again, moving over his body as he finally finished unbuttoning Will's shirt. 

He was certain a spark of electricity jumped between their bodies when Hannibal's skin finally touched Will's. He couldn't help but moan at the proximity, the two of them pressed close together against the cold door. Hannibal began to move lower after a moment, his teeth and tongue trailing down Will's body until he was on his knees in front of him.

Once, Hannibal had been described as the Devil by both Abel Gideon and himself. If that was true, what did it make Will that the Devil was currently on his knees in front of him?

Hannibal's hands wasted no time undoing his belt and pants, sliding the fabric down until it clung to Will's knees. He braced himself against the door, unable to make his eyes move anywhere but Hannibal's face. The other peppered kisses over his pelvis and abdomen before licking a long stripe up Will's achingly hard cock. Amber eyes flashed up to him, watching his face as Hannibal took him in his mouth, burying Will's cock in his mouth and throat until he was sheathed to the hilt.

Will groaned at the feeling and sight as Hannibal's hands grasped his hips. 

He wasn't exactly surprised at the lack of preamble the other gave him. Much like Will wanted to see Hannibal come undone, the other would want to see him fall apart and he had the perfect seat to do so. 

Hannibal's eyes were still on his as he began hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. Will found himself grasping at the other's hair, clutching for stability as best he could. Hannibal hummed as Will's grip tightened. 

Will wasn't often one for sex. He'd definitely had his fair share, with men and women both, but always his partners told him he was too much. Too loud, too vocal, too rough. Sex for Will wasn't the same as it was for other people. How easy it was to bounce from his mind into theirs, to feel their pleasure along with his own. He would lose himself in the act, and rarely did others come back for seconds. 

He had a strange feeling it would be nothing like that with Hannibal. 

The other pulled off his cock all too soon, standing and pressing another harsh kiss against Will's lips. He found that he was chasing the other as he pulled away, the desire for contact becoming worse and worse by the second. Hannibal stayed after his rather pathetic chase, the two of them leaning their weight on each other and the door. After a moment, he pulled himself from the remainder of his clothes before tugging at Hannibal's. Four hands worked on his belt and pants before they were both bare to each other. 

Hannibal guided him, rather tenderly, toward the bed. 

It should bother him to some extent that this was the same bed Hannibal had taken Alana and who knows how many others to. And it did. Will was possessive, more so than he ever realized, when it came to Hannibal Lecter. A large part of him wanted Hannibal's attention only on him and him alone. And he knew Hannibal wanted the same. It wasn't the first time he had felt possessiveness for Hannibal. He remembered the night he kissed Alana and all the things that had gone through his mind that night. He had wanted to tell Hannibal first — whenever anything happened he wanted to tell Hannibal — but more than that, part of him wished it were Hannibal's lips under his own. And then he had stepped into the dining room, where two sets of plates sat. Will's possessiveness had soared then, but mostly he was upset on Hannibal's behalf. Someone else had left, meal unfinished and plates strewn about, leaving Hannibal to clean the mess. 

It wasn't the only time he had experienced something like this. Before, Will had been Hannibal's last session of the day. And it irked him that someone else had taken that spot, even if it was Margot, who Will didn't mind. 

"I can hear you thinking," Hannibal was standing behind him. The other moved forward, pressing his chest against Will's back. He could feel lips trailing over his shoulder and hands moving over his hips. 

"Would you prefer I didn't think?" 

He was surprised at the huff of laughter that brushed over his skin. One of Hannibal's arms moved around his waist, pressing them together. The hand that wasn't currently pinning him to Hannibal moved upward until it was wrapped around his throat, pushing his head back and onto Hannibal's shoulder. 

The other's lips moved to his neck once again, fang-like teeth grazing over his skin. 

If the other sensed Will's jealousy and subsequent possessiveness, he wasn't saying anything. In fact, he wasn't saying much at all. He was biting and sucking into Will's neck with a single-minded focus. Enough that Will's eyes slid such and pleasure began to move through his body. Normally, he wasn't one to be taken care of during sex. He reached back, finding Hannibal's hair and fisting his hand in the strands at the back of the other's head. It should probably worry him having a cannibal so close to his throat. 

Hannibal's hand moved from his throat to his hair, keeping him stretched over his shoulder. 

"You just wanted to pull at my curls," Will teased. 

"Yes." Hannibal breathed before pulling Will's earlobe between his teeth and biting lightly. 

Will moaned and suddenly the two of them were falling onto the bed. Hannibal's hand once again moved to his throat as his body was pinned beneath the other. His hand was still fisted in the other's hair as they rolled slightly onto their sides. Hannibal finally let go of his ear and turned Will's head so their lips could meet again. He thought for certain this would be more rushed between them, especially given the haste of their earlier kisses. 

Now that Hannibal had him on the bed though, he seemed to be determined to take his time. The hand that wasn't gripping his throat still was running down his body, feeling every inch he could reach. After a moment, he managed to turn himself over, Hannibal's grip shifting from his throat to the back of his neck. It was much easier to lose himself in a kiss like this as his leg subconsciously moved over Hannibal's hip. The two of them ground together, cocks brushing lazily while hands grew tighter and tighter. 

Suddenly, it didn't matter how many people had shared this bed with Hannibal before. Only that he was sharing it now. Their tongues brushed together lightly, as it was Will's turn to explore the other's mouth. 

He didn't know how long it was until Hannibal's hand moved to his hip, grinding them together harder and faster. He groaned, tugging at Hannibal's hair lightly. The other's head moved back, giving Will access to his throat and neck. Will took it eagerly, his teeth sinking into soft flesh. How he wanted to mark Hannibal for everyone to see. 

He was certain Hannibal would let him.

They ground together for another couple of minutes, Will ravaging Hannibal's neck at the same time, before Hannibal eventually rolled, grasping at something in the bedside table. Will knew what he was after before he saw it. 

"Me or you?" Will asked, his voice gruffer than he thought it would be.

"Which do you prefer?" 

Hannibal was giving him the choice, something that part of him couldn't help but feel as though he would only allow with Will. As much as he would have loved to fuck Hannibal Lecter of all people, he wanted just as much to be on the other end. Hannibal seemed to understand the conclusion he came to because he rolled them so Will was on his back. He watched as Hannibal sat back on his heels, opening the bottle. Will sat up slightly, unable to resist first running a hand through the hair on Hannibal's chest and then pulling him into another kiss. The other followed him as he fell back onto the bed, only shifting so he could press a lubricated finger against Will's rim. 

He wasn't sure who shuddered more as Hannibal pressed inside him. It was slow as though for once he was genuinely concerned about breaking Will. He let out a low sigh when Hannibal was buried so deep he could feel the webbing between his fingers. The other's lips came back to his as he began to shift his finger back and forth, stretching Will slightly but not enough to hurt. After a moment, he added another finger, pressing into Will once more. He groaned, his nails digging into the back of Hannibal's head as the other pushed inside him and began scissoring his fingers. 

He found himself reaching for the other, wrapping his hand around the other's cock. Hannibal's lips became a small, soft smile against Will's as he began shifting his fingers in and out of Will in time with his strokes over the other's cock. Hannibal eventually added a third finger, stretching Will more before he crooked his fingers, pressing against Will's prostate. He gasped at the sudden sensation and the pleasure that accompanied it. 

Hannibal took the opportunity to grasp Will's lower lip between his teeth and pull at it. Will groaned in response before Hannibal let him go. They were both breathing a little heavier now as Will found the discarded lube bottle and began spreading some lube over Hannibal's cock. He was tired of waiting. 

They shifted as the other lined himself up and began pressing slowly into Will's body. He knew the other was well endowed, he had felt it himself, but it was different as Hannibal pushed into him. He felt full and split open, but it was a surprisingly complete feeling. Neither of them moved much once Hannibal finally buried himself in Will completely, sheathed to the hilt. 

Hannibal was panting and his grip on the sheets on either side of Will's body was tight enough that he was certain they would tear. He watched the other's face, seeing pleasure and a strange amount of awe flash across the other's face before he lowered his body more, pressing them tightly together. 

Will wrapped his arms around the other's body, pinning the other against him. He rather enjoyed watching Hannibal come undone and knowing he was the cause of it. Hannibal opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity, letting go of the sheets and wrapping his arms under Will's body. One hand was clasped to his shoulder while the other was under his lower back. The other started to move slowly, giving them both a chance to adjust to the feeling of the other.

It didn't take long for his controlled, careful thrusts to devolve into something more animalistic and rougher. Will was practically clinging to him as Hannibal increased the pace of his thrusts. He didn't seem worried that Will would break now, and it was strangely arousing. Pleasure was coursing through him as Hannibal aimed thrust after brutal thrust at his prostate. Will bucked his hips up, meeting every thrust. 

He let his eyes slide shut as Hannibal buried his face in his neck, the two of them seemingly no longer thinking. Instead, there was a strange suspension of thought between them, as if for once, this was the one place they didn't need to think. There was no need for masks or grand schemes here, at this moment between them. There was no need for attempts at being people, or for hidden darkness. The space between and around them was meant for Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter as they were.

Their lips met again, each as hungry as the other. He wanted rough. He wanted the monster underneath the man just as much as he wanted the man. 

The past didn't matter. Will's feelings of betrayal didn't matter. The plan he had told Jack he was doing in luring Hannibal and eventually manipulating him into a murder with witnesses didn't matter. 

His legs wrapped around Hannibal's body, joining the already vice-like grip of his arms. His nails dug into the other's back and Hannibal moaned into his mouth. Seconds later, teeth were sinking into his shoulder, and judging by the sting, he drew blood. He would have bruises on his other shoulder from Hannibal's grip, and bruises on his hip from where the other's hand moved down and grasped him. Hannibal would have half-moons on his back, from where Will's nails dug into flesh and stripes from where he subsequently dragged his fingers downward. 

They were tearing into each other as much as they were pleasuring each other. They were marking, claiming. Taking. 

Will came with a loud cry after another brutal thrust at his prostate. Hannibal wasn't far behind him, likely unable to resist after Will's body tightened around him. 

He didn't know how long it was — or if he was even fully conscious — until Hannibal finally pulled his softening length from him. Neither had relented their grips, likely causing extra damage that they hadn't done yet. 

Hannibal didn't roll off him as much as he rolled onto his side, pulling Will with him. They were silent for a while, both of them breathing heavily. He could hear Hannibal's heartbeat from where he was lying half-pillowed on the other man's chest. 

He found he was strangely afraid to speak. Speaking meant breaking the spell that had been cast over them, where nothing mattered but each other. 

Yet there was still a body in Hannibal's freezer that needed to be dealt with, and Jack who already knew about what had happened before Will went to Hannibal's house. 

Hannibal, ever perceptive, seemed to understand that eventually, they would have to leave the space they had commandeered for themselves. But when he spoke, Will found that the spell wasn't broken. 

"You still have a debt to pay," Hannibal's hand was carding through his sweaty curls. "How will you repay it?" 

Will's lips twitched. "I have an idea." 


	3. Chapter 3

The act of touching Will in such a way was not a gift Hannibal ever thought he would be afforded. He never expected that he would be allowed something so intimate, something so precious. Will was the most important person, the most important anything, in Hannibal's world. He had already done what he needed to do, pinning his victims on Frederick Chilton. And beyond ensuring his own personal safety, he had little else to care about. Except for the man currently in his arms. 

Will was half-pillowed on his chest and half on his arm. Hannibal's other hand was currently carding through sweaty curls. Hannibal was lying on one of Will's arms while his other hand was dancing over his bicep. He had a distinct feeling that Will didn't want to leave, and quite frankly he didn't either. But they would have to before daylight or they would have to wait another night to pay Will's debt to Randall Tier. Hannibal knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Tier after Will. And he knew long before he left who would win that battle. Will likely didn't know that Hannibal was there and that he had stayed. He knew, the moment Buster was injured, that Tier would lose that fight. And how glorious it was. What Hannibal could see of it anyway. He had watched as Will boarded up his window and then followed, at a safe distance, as Will drove to Baltimore. He waited, long enough to make it seem like he was still with patients before he arrived home.

He was not at all surprised when greeted with Will and his prize. 

He was surprised, however, when Will grasped his hand. Will wasn't one for touch, though it seemed he allowed it with Hannibal. But Will rarely initiated it himself. He continued to be surprised by everything that developed after. Hannibal thought he understood God. Thought himself somewhat akin to them, whatever God turned out to be. But he didn't know if it was a reward or punishment by the deity that he found himself so entangled with Will on more levels than one. Hannibal never thought he needed anyone. He was alone, and he accepted that. After Mischa, he resolved that he didn't need anyone. And then Will came into his life with a rude attitude and eyes that saw too much and Hannibal found he didn't just want him, he needed him. They were alike in too many ways, and alone in too many others. 

Will's eyes were half-lidded, as though he intended on falling asleep in Hannibal's arms. And he would let him. He wanted to let him. 

Even with Alana, he never once let someone fall asleep in his arms. There was a distance, always a distance, after the sex was done and they were ready for sleep. 

He didn't want that with Will. 

"You still have a debt to pay. How will you repay it?"

"I have an idea." 

Hannibal's hand moved from the other's curls to hook under his chin, pulling his face up. Their eyes met and for once, he couldn't see the thoughts flying behind them. Maybe he should have suggested this from the beginning. 

That didn't last though. Will likely saw the thoughts behind his eyes and his own sharpened in response. 

"No," He answered, shifting up the bed. 

"Will," Hannibal began. 

"No," He repeated and suddenly their lips collided again. "No." Will's grip on him was almost frantic. He was clinging to something that wasn't just Hannibal, and he found he was clinging to the other in return. "Please." 

Will pushed him so he was on his back, and he went willingly. The other covered his body quickly, pressing them close together. How long had he wanted this? How long had he craved a deeper relationship between the two of them? How tightly would he find himself clinging now that he knew he could have it? 

Will wasn't wound up, not yet. This wasn't sexual in nature, his sudden attack on Hannibal. This was clinging to the newness of what had developed between them, unwilling to let it shatter and the world seep in around them. Neither of them had to be the masks they made. He wasn't Hannibal Lecter the psychiatrist just as Will wasn't Will Graham the unstable FBI consultant. They were just who they were in that moment, wrapped in each other's arms. His hand moved back to Will's hair, holding him in place. 

The man in his arms was beautiful, and that's all Hannibal could think as Will pulled back slightly to shift his attention to his collarbone. The other had a particularly vivid bite on his shoulder and now that Hannibal thought about it, his back stung slightly. He lifted his hand, running his fingers over the bite. He would convince Will to let him draw him, bite and all. Will hissed when Hannibal's fingers finally contacted the mark he had left. The other turned his head, looking at it. Hannibal went to withdraw his fingers, but Will caught him. He sat up, Will still positioned on his lap as he traced over the bite. Will watched him, lips parted slightly. Much like him, Will thrived on violence. It was one of the languages they shared. 

This aspect of it included. He knew Will was as possessive as he was, and both took some savage pleasure in knowing the other was marked by them. 

"Your back isn't likely much better." There was a hint of an apology in Will's voice. 

Hannibal pulled the other back in for another harsh kiss the moment he finished his last word. 

Will's hands were back on him and the two of them were clinging to each other in equal measure. It was only when their abdomens brushed that Hannibal remembered how they found their way to this position, and the mess they made along the way. 

It took some coaxing to drag Will from the bed and into the bathroom. But eventually, he came and the two of them spent the next several minutes cleaning and patching up the damage they had done. Will only bothered pulling on his underwear and pants before they ventured downstairs and to the freezer that Tier was stored in. He was the first one to enter, feeling the heat of Will's body behind him as they looked down at the body. Will moved right behind him, looking over Hannibal's shoulder. 

"Pick your poison." 

He turned his head slightly to look at the other. "Which would you choose?" 

He could almost feel Will's smirk against his shoulder. 

"I asked you first." Will's breath was hot on his ear. 

If he kept this up, there was no way to guarantee that they wouldn't find their way back to Hannibal's bed.

* * *

The rest of the day moved by achingly slow. Mostly because Will wasn't there to share the day with him. He had guided Will's hand in taking apart the body and Will took what he needed to fulfill his plan. He had left Hannibal the heart though, and a silent promise to return for dinner. He knew that after the crime scene they had left, Will likely drove home to sleep and eventually repair his window. But Hannibal didn't have that luxury. Not that he would have slept anyway. He was capable of surviving on less sleep than most. He went about his day, patient after patient, and still feeling Will in the way his shirt sat on his back. 

He was annoyed though that midday the person who appeared at his door was not Will, but instead Alana. He could already smell the gunpowder when she entered the room and immediately Hannibal's mind began to run through scenarios. The most likely one though, was that she was afraid, mostly of Will. Whereas Hannibal had long since forgiven Will's attempt on his life, the wounds on his back more than enough of an indicator, Alana hadn't. 

The next thing that began to run through his mind was how to distance himself from Alana. She was a valuable alibi as his gambit with her had already saved him one trip to Quantico. But even Hannibal recognized the unnecessary cruelty of having someone else occupy his bed — and his heart — and letting Alana be none the wiser. He would and had blinded her to a great many things. It was unnecessary to blind her to this. For the most part. 

Alana, however, seemed already willing to distance herself. She was tenser than normal, sitting further away from him and watching his every move.

Perhaps it wasn't just Will she was afraid of. 

In the end, when she left, he doubted she would come around much more.

It was likely better that the visit ended in a stalemate. She would continue to defend him as she had so vehemently, but she wouldn't find her way back to Hannibal's house. At least not alone. 

Hannibal finished the rest of the day almost mechanically. His patients didn't notice, but he did. He was excellent with his masks, able to make people see what he wanted them to see and by proxy what they wanted to see. Knowing that he no longer had to keep up the mask was probably the most exhausting thing that could have happened to him. 

By the time that Hannibal arrived home, he was uncharacteristically tired. He ventured toward the kitchen, remembering the night before where Will had been waiting for him in the dining room. Sure enough, Will was there again, a glass of wine in hand and the fire started. Were it anyone else, he would have killed them. He had killed for lesser offenses than this. Yet with Will, he found the image presented to him oddly endearing. 

"I hope you don't mind." There was a teasing hint in the other's voice, as though he knew Hannibal would mind if it weren't for who he was. "I brought some ingredients." 

Hannibal ventured past him and into the kitchen, finding the ingredients just as Will said. Given that several were still cool and the amount of wine in the other's glass, he likely had just arrived. The bottle was sitting on the counter too. It wasn't one of Hannibal's which he couldn't help but find endearing. The only thing Will had done was used his glass without permission, as though he were pressing his luck but not going too far. 

Hannibal took off his overcoat, lying it on the chair on the other side of the kitchen. He would deal with it later. 

Will was watching him closely before he stepped forward and grasped Hannibal's chin, turning his head. 

"You look tired." It wasn't an insult or even an observation. Will was surprised. And Hannibal was too. He never allowed himself to look tired around anyone. Except for Will.

Always except for Will.

"I didn't sleep much." 

Will's eyes shot to his shoulder, though he would have looked at Hannibal's back if he could have. His lips twitched slightly, before looking back to Hannibal. He took the opportunity to study the other. His hair was looser than normal as though he didn't want to tame it. Curls sat on his forehead and Hannibal noted that his hair was slightly longer than before. He couldn't help but think that he liked it a little longer. He had dark circles under his eyes, making the ocean blue of them pop. 

He couldn't help but notice that he had dressed in tighter, darker clothes had he had been recently, with the exception of last night. 

Will was already aesthetically pleasing. The sight he presented now was downright tantalizing. And Will likely knew that. Much like Hannibal, there wasn't much that the other did that wasn't on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

Hannibal thought back to the night he made the ortolans, and the way Will turned his head just so Hannibal could see the flex of his jaw and the bob of his throat. 

"What are we making?" His voice was just a little lower and Hannibal could smell the wine on his breath. It was strangely appetizing. 

There wasn't much that he needed to instruct Will to do once they began. Will's excellent memory was put to use immediately and Hannibal couldn't help but note the intense focus he had at each task that Hannibal had given him. He'd had sous chefs before, Alana among them, but he kept most of them at arm's length and on the other side of the kitchen. Will, however, was right at his side as they worked. 

With the meal cooking, Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine, admiring the contrast of sweetness and bitterness that perfectly fit the meal they were about to have. 

Will was still watching him closely, studying him. He didn't need to ask to know what Will was thinking and a light brush over his arm was enough to send the thoughts just behind his eyes away. It was strange to have someone he could communicate with so easily. As a psychiatrist, he was excellent with communication, but mostly it was his patients communicating with him. It was easy to take their thoughts and untangle them before offering them back. Or even manipulating them how he wished. 

But with Will, it was a different form of communication. He had manipulated Will's thoughts as he had others, but the result was spectacular. At least two of his patients were dead after Hannibal's manipulation and the rest weren't quite the same ever again. But Will. Will had bloomed under his manipulations, even though a large part of Hannibal wished it were unnecessary. He wished a great many things were unnecessary. 

He wasn't accustomed to guilt. He wasn't guilty over the things he had done to Miriam Lass, or the framing of Frederick Chilton. He wasn't guilty due to his manipulation of Alana. He wasn't even guilty about his manipulation of Abigail. But he was strangely guilty when it came to Will. And the things he had put him through.

Just before the timer rang for him to take the food out of the oven, he grasped Will's wrist, pulling the other closer and into a crushing kiss. The other moved easily, folding himself into Hannibal's grasp. 

He backed the other into the counter, their bodies pressed close together. He didn't want to move when the timer went off, though he knew part of himself would hate to waste the food. But there was something all the more appetizing in front of him, and he was ravenous. 

"Food," Will whispered when he managed to pull just far enough for a breath. Hannibal was tempted to ignore it, that was until Will's next comment anyway. "You'll want energy later." 

Dinner was spent with the two of them dancing around subject after subject, as they tended to do. It wasn't as though either of them had anything to hide anymore, but neither of them enjoyed speaking plainly. Verbal sparring was one of their more entertaining endeavors. Or it had been anyway. Hannibal wasn't one to deny himself amusement. But not even he could resist the boyish smirk Will offered him over dinner, or the attempt at seduction he found himself offering after. 

He was exhausted. 

And more wound up than he had ever been in his life. 


	4. Chapter 4

Will could do this. He could do this. He could keep a distance between himself and Hannibal, just to lure Hannibal into a trap of the man's own making. 

He couldn't do this.

Hannibal's hands were back on him the moment the dishes were done. He never expected the sheer amount of sexual energy the other had, but he supposed he couldn't be that surprised given Hannibal's constant travels into hedonism in his work and the things he later consumed. He thought he could hold out, that he could keep it just about sex and that there was nothing inherently deeper between them. But the moment, his lips found Hannibal's once again, he knew the idea went out the window. Just like earlier that morning, an air set in around them so similar to a spell. Whatever was between them was far deeper than anything Will had ever experienced in the past and it was made so much worse by the physicality of their relationship. 

Will found himself pulling the other back into his grasp. They should wait, at least let their meal settle more. But they weren't. He found himself being backed through the house until he collided with a wall. They hadn't yet made it to the stairs but it seemed Hannibal didn't care at the moment. The other's hands didn't move further than his back or his hair, but it felt as though his touch and his lips were everywhere. Will couldn't keep his hands to himself, letting them trail over whatever parts of Hannibal he could reach.

He managed to fist his hand in the other's hair and pull his head back, lavishing his neck now that it was exposed to him. 

There was something about Hannibal, overall, that managed to unwind years of carefully built walls and masks within him. Right after the death of Garret Jacob Hobbs, he never would have admitted to anyone that he enjoyed killing. It was why he left the New Orleans Police Department. He knew once he started, he wouldn't have wanted to stop. But he found himself admitting that he liked killing to Hannibal. And beyond that, he admitted that if he were going to try to kill Hannibal again, he would do it with his hands. A death for Hannibal Lecter deserved intimacy. But that wasn't the only set of masks and walls that Hannibal's very presence dismantled. He had told himself that he didn't need anyone, that he was better off alone. That people didn't want him, that he didn't deserve to be wanted. He didn't think anyone could ever look at the darkness within him and want to stay. And he assumed that if he were to ever be in a relationship with someone, he would have to hide his darkness rather than embrace it. But not with Hannibal.

Hannibal wanted his darkness, just as much as he wanted the best in him. He wanted to see everything that was Will Graham and to unleash it on the world. And Will found more and more that he wanted the same thing with Hannibal. He had seen the mask, the man the monster pretended to be. But now and then with increasing frequency, he was beginning to see the man under the monster. 

Whose throat he was currently at he didn't know yet. 

They were moving again after a moment, shuffling through the house and upstairs to Hannibal's room once more.

The bed was exactly as he remembered it when he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eyes, though the sheets and blankets that had been rumpled before were now straightened.

He'd fix that.

Hannibal found his way to Will's neck now, sucking and biting at still tender flesh. In truth, he had felt Hannibal's touch all day. He had felt the pain and he felt the pleasure that came along with it. Even when he woke up, he found that his hand first moved automatically to the bite under the thin t-shirt he wore. Part of him wondered if Hannibal had felt the thin stripes that Will had left down his back the night before. 

It was probably one of the most entertaining things in the world to him to watch Hannibal come undone. It had started over dinner, with the conversation between them. Will knew the moment he had caught the attention of Hannibal's more hedonistic side with the heated gaze the other gave him, with the way his head moved and the heat of his eyes. He knew that very movement was an attempt at seduction, one he cherished. The way Hannibal's lips were parted, the way his hair fell into his eyes. Slowly the mask was being lifted. 

It was gone now. 

Will's hand fisted in Hannibal's hair again, holding him in place as he unbuttoned Will's shirt and moved to the bite he had left hours before. It still stung and ached slightly, but he couldn't help but shudder with pleasure when Hannibal's tongue moved over it. 

He tore at Hannibal's shirt and tie, wanting them gone. He wanted nothing more than skin on skin contact at this moment, and to see what had become of Hannibal Lecter's back. 

Hannibal seemed to understand his frantic need as the two of them began tearing at each other's clothes more. He wasn't certain that the clothes survived their attacks before they were finally bared to each other. He lifted his hands, running over the wounds he had inflicted the night before. Hannibal hissed lightly, mostly in surprise Will guessed. He knew the other had an incredibly high pain tolerance. The other shifted away from him, moving toward the bed. But in doing so, he turned his back to Will, who could now see the eight lines running down Hannibal's back. They were light, likely as deep as a paper cut with four on and below each shoulder blade. 

He moved forward, stopping Hannibal from moving onto the bed, but instead admiring the marks for a moment more. Hannibal's back flexed slightly before he looked over his shoulder at Will. 

Their lips met again. 

He had thought earlier that he could handle such an intimate situation with someone who he was so intimately close to without everything that came with it. He thought maybe he could live in his own mind for the duration of it, without sinking into and bathing in the mind of Hannibal Lecter.

He was wrong. 

He knew, with everything in him, how much the marks on Hannibal's back pleased him, just as the mark on Will's shoulder did. He wanted Will to embrace his darkness and any manifestation of it.

He remembered the look in Hannibal's eye just days before when the two of them were sitting on his desk in his office. He remembered the softness in his eyes and the way his lips were quirked upward. He didn't look at Hannibal fully for that, but he could see him out of the corner of his eye. 

The other turned, pulling them both onto the bed. He followed willingly, letting himself be positioned on his side, lying on one of Hannibal's arms. The other was just as tender with him as he had been in the morning, running his free hand through his hair. Will pressed forward, their bodies sliding together like puzzle pieces. It annoyed a small part of him how right Hannibal had always been. There they were, locked together as though they were two halves of a whole. 

Hannibal only released his lips long enough to trap Will's hand and press his knuckles to his lips. He had never felt worshipped by a partner before but he felt strangely worshipped now.

The moment Hannibal let go of his hand, their lips were together again. 

He was achingly hard and aroused and he knew Hannibal was too.

It took very little to coax Hannibal's leg over his own, letting them move closer together, their lengths brushing. His hand moved down from where it had been at the back of Hannibal's neck to in between them, wrapping around their cocks. The other let out a hiss of breath, his hips rocking upward slightly into Will's grip. It was strange to him to have such an effect on a person. He doubted the other was anywhere near as open with other people, letting out groans and moans as easily as he did with Will. Will certainly wasn't one to moan as loudly as he did the night before. 

The friction between the two of them was almost too little. He needed more. He wanted more.

He wanted Hannibal in too many ways that likely wasn't good for him. Just as he knew Hannibal likely wanted him in too many ways. 

They were too much alike and too different in all the right ways. Both were possessive, both were craving attention and love from someone else, and both ached for each other. No one else managed to fill that hole within him the way Hannibal did. And it was incredibly annoying.

And arousing.

He rolled them so he was on top of the other, finding that Hannibal immediately shifted his legs so Will was between them. He wanted everything. He wanted the other's moans, he wanted the way he came undone, he wanted to be the cause of every reason why Hannibal Lecter fell apart. 

The lube was where they had left it earlier, shoved under a pillow. He knew Hannibal wouldn't have slept much, but he began to think the other didn't sleep at all. Hannibal didn't seem to care as he watched Will pull the lube out and sit back on his heels. They had been exactly reversed the night before and Will couldn't help but think that the exact opposite change in circumstance was somehow fitting between them. 

He found he was incredibly careful when he pressed a lubed finger against Hannibal's rim. The other was careful with him the night before, as though he were certain Will would break, and now Will felt the same way. How strange. They were willing to hurt each other, to mark each other, to tear at each other until there was nothing left but what they had made, and at the same time, they were both incredibly careful and gentle with each other. 

Hannibal drew him back down into a kiss as Will worked on readying him as best he could given the awkward angle. If Hannibal cared at all, he didn't say anything or give any indication. Instead, he was ravaging Will's mouth as though he could never taste enough. He thought maybe Hannibal couldn't. Maybe he couldn't either. 

He was so lost in the motions, lost in the taste and feel of Hannibal Lecter, that he had added a second and then a third finger without realizing it. He was so lost that it was Hannibal's voice pulling him out of wherever he went, telling him that he wanted more. And so did Will. He needed more. 

He was still awkwardly positioned as he opened the lube bottle once more. When he was finally positioned correctly, he began slowly pushing into the other's body. He was certain his eyes rolled into the back of his head for a moment. Maybe it was who Hannibal was to him, and the fact that he had already found most things about Hannibal beautiful. But he was on fire by the time he was fully seated within the other. Never before had he felt so close to someone. Never had he understood why people said they wanted to bury themselves inside another person. Maybe it was his own mind falling back and forth between himself and Hannibal.

His eyes lifted to the other's, finding a blazing amber meeting his gaze. Hannibal was looking at him as though he were the most beautiful and important thing he had ever seen. 

Will shifted slowly, pulling back and then pushing in just as slow. He knew they both could handle more, but he couldn't force his body to move any faster. He couldn't force himself to break the gaze the and Hannibal were sharing which he knew he would do if he let himself embrace everything he wanted to do. 

Hannibal's hand came into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss. 

He was electrified. He was a livewire that only became worse under Hannibal's grip as though he were the battery, the very fuel to Will's fire. 

He began to increase his movements, feeling Hannibal's grip tighten. The other hummed with approval. He was gripping Hannibal likely too tightly as their bodies move in tandem. Every thrust of Will's was met by Hannibal's hips. Their foreheads were pressed together, the two of them sharing breath and moans. 

He didn't know how long it was until Hannibal seemingly grew tired of their current position. He found himself being moved onto his back, and it was more curiosity than anything that made him let himself be moved. 

Hannibal's body moved over his, knees on either side of his hips, before the other leaned down, kissing him again. 

Will gripped him tightly, and his grip only became worse as Hannibal sank onto his cock. 

He was almost overstimulated. Almost.

Hannibal's hips began to shift and Will couldn't help but admire the way Hannibal's muscles flexed and contracted under his hands. One hand was rested on Hannibal's thigh, feeling every movement as his hips shifted up and down and the other was on Hannibal's lower back, feeling the roll of his hips. One of Hannibal's hands was fisted almost too tightly in his hair while the other was pressed against the bed, holding himself just slightly aloft. 

Will was chasing Hannibal's lips as the other pulled away, sitting upright. 

He was certain he stopped breathing as he watched Hannibal begin to move above him. He watched the flex of his thighs, the way the muscles moved under his skin, and subsequently Will's hand. The way his hips rolled both as he moved them up and down and then in circles on Will's cock. The way his abdomen flexed and bent with every movement, muscles pulling at his hips to move them. The way his chest heaved with his breath and every time his breath caught when Will's cock grazed his prostate. The way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and the muscles of his neck flexed. The way his head was tilted back slightly, hair resting over closed eyelids, and his lips parted. 

Will always thought Hannibal's lips resembled a bow. 

They were quite enticing.

His other hand moved to Hannibal's hip, feeling the way it flexed and moved under his hand. 

He didn't understand why it took him so long to realize that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. The man above him was dangerous, a predator with well used and tone muscles, a hunting instinct to rival most, and intense focus. Will could feel a predator under his skin just like that, one that reached out to Hannibal's and found something reaching in return. 

Will's hips were thrusting in time with Hannibal's movements and after several more minutes, he moved to wrap his hand around the other's cock. Hannibal moaned loudly, his head falling back further. 

He let his own eyes close for a moment, feeling the way their bodies ground together and how strangely perfect the whole situation was.

Naturally, though, after a few minutes, he felt like he was too far from Hannibal. 

He opened his eyes to find Hannibal reaching for him and then they were both pulling his body upright and shifting to adjust to this new position. Hannibal's hand cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, while Will buried his face in the other's neck. Their arms were wrapped around each other's bodies, holding them close together. 

Hannibal came after a few more thrusts and jerks of Will's hand. Feeling the other's body tighten around him made his own body tense. Another series of sharp quick thrusts and he was coming too. He didn't even realize they had fallen back into a heap on the bed as he clung to the other. 

They rolled onto their sides, Will's softening length slipping from Hannibal's body. 

He didn't know when he fell asleep. 

He did know when he woke up though. 

He could see the faces of all the Ripper's victims watching him, judging him for being tied so intimately to their killer, and yet Will didn't care. In truth, he didn't care when he woke up either. Just before he woke, the ravenstag appeared, horns adorned with the pelt of a wolf. Slowly, the stag began to shift until it was the man, his skin oily black and antlers stretching into the sky. He wasn't afraid at the man neared him, wasn't at all worried about anything really, until a hand wrapped around his throat. 

Will sat upright, gasping, and grabbing at his throat. A layer of sweat covered his body and his chest was heaving. He was certain he wasn't breathing there for a moment, staring blankly ahead of him and not seeing anything. 

Hannibal's voice eventually filtered though. "Will." 

Hannibal was directly in front of him, having moved from wherever he was on the bed into Will's point of view. He vaguely remembered Hannibal pulling on the sleep pants he now wore and offering Will a similar pair. Hannibal's hands were grasping his face, his eyes intently focused on Will. 

"Breathe," He coaxed. 

Will had woken up from nightmares with partners before. He never saw them again afterward. Never had he had one try to calm him down, watching him so fully and coaxing his breathing with soft strokes of their thumb over his cheek. 

What possessed Will to suddenly launch himself forward, he didn't know. Or maybe he did and he just didn't want to think about it. 

Hannibal allowed the rather rough kiss, even kissing him back. But when Will's body started to move closer, the other stopped him, pulling back slightly and cupping his face. 

"You should sleep." 

Will opened his mouth to protest but Hannibal's intense gaze offered no room for protest. 

Eventually, the other shifted, lying back down on the bed. Hannibal would likely be annoyed at the sweat soaked part of the bed in the shape of Will, but he found the other said nothing about it. Even in the dark, Will could feel the other's gaze. 

"Come here." 

He did. 

He thought he had fallen asleep in Hannibal's grasp earlier, but the feeling he had now was distinctly different. Hannibal pulled Will against him, letting his arm function as a pillow. He hesitantly stretched an arm out over the other's abdomen, finding a hand grasp his forearm and neither moving. 

He'd had the best night's sleep he'd ever had after that. 


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal never contemplated murder as much as he did when he felt Will leave the bed.

In truth, he was already drifting in and out of consciousness, for once wanting to return to sleep with Will still in his arms. Will had slept rather peacefully after he fell asleep for the second time. The first time, Will had crawled into bed and fell asleep with his face in the pillow. Hannibal found it endearing, especially when Will's breathing evened. He crawled in after him, covering them both with the blankets and then, after a moment, wrapped his arm over Will's waist. Hannibal couldn't help but feel guilty when Will woke gasping for breath and clawing at his throat. He thought certainly the other would leave, and when he didn't, he thought there was no way he could have what he truly wanted: Will in his arms. He refused to take advantage of the other when Will lunged at him, no matter how much he would have loved to return to their previous activities. 

When Will's phone went off, he hoped the other wouldn't leave the bed. And he didn't the first time it rang. Or the second. But Will's breathing had changed and by the third time, he extracted himself from Hannibal's grasp and carefully moved off the bed. He could tell Will was being extra careful as he stepped around the bed and to his discarded clothes. 

"What?" He hissed quietly. After a moment, Will sighed and then crept from the room, shutting the door gently behind him. 

Hannibal opened his eyes finally, staring at the place the other just left. That was until his phone on the nightstand started to ring. 

"Good morning, Jack." He greeted. 

"Hannibal," Jack answered, as stoic and succinct as normal. "We have a body. It's strange."

"Have you called Will?" He stood from the bed, moving closer to the door to hear the conversation on the other side. 

"-gonna need time to get coffee."

Hannibal smiled to himself. 

"Where?" 

"Baltimore, not far from you. I'll send the address." 

"I'll need time to get ready," Hannibal said. 

"-says he needs time to get coffee." Hannibal heard from Jack's side of the conversation. 

"Fine. It will take some time to get to Baltimore anyway." 

There was more indistinct chatter around him before he bid Jack goodbye and set the phone on the nightstand. Will bid a rather grumpy goodbye before the handle on the door turned. Hannibal waited patiently as Will first tried to creep back into the room, the noticed Hannibal upright and sighed. 

"I was trying not to wake you." 

"You didn't." 

"Crime scene," Will said, setting the phone down. 

"I know. Jack called me." 

If Will at all suspected that Hannibal had anything to do with it, he didn't say anything and his eyes certainly didn't show it. Instead, he walked toward Hannibal before turning and unceremoniously flopping onto the bed. Hannibal felt his lips twitch as he turned, watching Will lift his hands above his head, stretching and effectively taking over the whole bed. Will had been prone to taking over Hannibal's space since they first met. The first time Will was in his office, he walked around the whole place and eventually climbed the mezzanine. Anyone else and Hannibal might have killed them. Yet it never bothered him when it was Will. The other could come into his office and begin fidgeting with the objects on his desk — which he had done — and Hannibal would find himself watching him appreciatively. Will had claimed his desk and his chair more than once and Hannibal had all but said thank you as he watched the other man take over space after space that belonged to him. 

Will's touch was everywhere. He felt it at the desks and the mezzanine in his office, in his kitchen and dining room, and now in his bed. 

The other's eyes moved to him and his face grew slightly sheepish. It was a strange look on him, one Hannibal hadn't see since he first met him. 

"Sorry," He began, lifting himself up from the bed. 

Hannibal was on him in seconds. 

Part of him could see the irony in it. Will had claimed everything that Hannibal owned, tracing long fingers over them like a cat brushing on furniture. And Hannibal had claimed Will in every other way. Will fell back onto the bed easily, accepting the rather harsh kisses Hannibal subjected him to. Will arched up into him and Hannibal felt his arms moving of their own volition, wrapping under Will's body to hold him closer. Never in his life had he found someone who he wanted to hold so close, someone who's very absence left an ache so deep that Hannibal rewrote his plans to pull him out of prison. 

He moved again to fist his hand in the other's hair. Will was right when he teased him about wanting to pull his hair. The other moaned into his mouth, the two of them grinding together. It seemed they were equally easy to arouse as he felt Will's length prod his leg, just as he knew his own was doing in return. He could have him right here. Both had bought time for themselves, long enough that they could easily pull an orgasm from each other. 

"Shower," Will managed between their heated kisses. 

Hannibal pulled them upright, the two of them shimmying out of their limited clothing as they moved into the bathroom. Hannibal would normally have preferred a bath, but he doubted the two of them would first, fit in his tub; and second, that Will would have the patience or the lack of self-consciousness for a bath. Showering and sex were one thing. There were only so many positions one could fit in a tub. Hannibal would have been more than willing to be the one who leaned against the other, but he wouldn't push. Not yet. 

The shower warmed quickly and the two of them stumbled inside and against the wall. Hannibal could feel the water spraying off the other's body, but he didn't care. He was pushed up against the wall with Will pressed against him. The wall was cold, but Will was a furnace. Hannibal had always been on the cooler side in his life, never the one people turned to in the winter to keep themselves warm. Will, however, from the beginning was fire wrapped in flesh. It made for a strangely comfortable equilibrium the previous night. 

He found himself leaning forward when the other leaned back into the water and sucking off some of the water from his skin. Will pulled him under the water as well, the two of them bathing in the heat. Will's head was still tilted back, water dripping down his face and hair. Hannibal had never seen anything as beautiful. The other's head tilted forward once again, blinking against the spray of the water. Hannibal watched him as their eyes met. 

Something flew behind the other's eyes as he looked at Hannibal, his brows furrowing slightly and his lips turning downward. Then he lunged, pulling Hannibal against him, except this time he was hungrier. 

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to lie him out on the bed and take his time. The two previous times they had sex, it was rushed and desperate, much like how Hannibal always had sex. He tended to be rougher. He always made certain his partners were pleased, but it was a less personal affair. It was strange to find himself wanting to draw it out with anyone. Sex was an excellent cover story, he had used it more than once. But he didn't want sex just to satisfy his own hedonistic side or for cover. He wanted something more intimate, more passionate when it came to Will. 

But that would have to wait, as they had people counting on them who wouldn't. 

He turned them so Will's back was against the wall before kissing down the other's body. He would taste everywhere eventually. But today was not the day.

Will's hands were on him as he lowered himself to the floor and even when he found his way to his knees. Will's hand was still in his wet hair as Hannibal licked up the length of the other's cock. Will held onto his hair as Hannibal took the other in his mouth.

Hannibal was never one for religious experiences, even though he had a keen understanding of God. He was raised religious and still kept some religious ideology in his life, but he knew he was far too hedonistic to ever fit into any doctrine. For him, it was more to spite God than anything. He enjoyed tearing the world down around him and remaking it in his image rather than God's. Were he ever to meet God, he supposed the two of them would spend their eternity constantly trying to outdo one another.

That being said, Hannibal was certain this was something akin to a religious experience right now. To him, Will was nothing short of a god. A god who was currently pinned to the wall of his shower, a hand fisted in his hair, and his head thrown back in pleasure. Will had tried to keep eye contact, but the more Hannibal increased the bobbing of his head, the hollowing of his cheeks, the movements of his tongue, the less he could force himself to keep eye contact. Hannibal had watched with no shortage of amusement as Will's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head and then his head leaned back against the wall. 

He didn't bother pinning Will's hips, almost wanting the other to use him for his own pleasure. But he didn't. 

Hannibal couldn't help but bask in the various tastes of Will Graham. 

He'd tasted, and he tasted. Flesh, blood. It was never enough. He was ravenous now, his appetite wetted and his monster clinging to what it saw as its mate. And this was no different. Precome dripped on Hannibal's tongue as he continued to work his mouth over Will's cock, and it was just another flavor that he knew he would never grow tired of. In truth, he wasn't certain he would ever grow tired of Will in general. 

Will's brilliant ocean eyes haunted him at night. He felt the other's absence as though part of himself were missing and he was whole again when Will returned. It was part of the reason he had freed him from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He had assumed, that after Mischa, he would never find someone with who he truly wanted to spend time. Someone who could captivate him and fill the hole in him he never knew he had. He was forced to admit, rather bitterly, to himself that he was, in fact, lonely and that the one person who made him feel less alone in the world was Will. 

He wanted to drag the other over his edge, to taste him as he wanted, but Will seemed to have other plans. The tugging on his hair became insistent, beckoning him upward from the shower floor. The water was warmer as he stood, only to be pulled against an even warmer body. 

Will ground against him, insistent and needy as their mouths collided. Here was another taste that Hannibal could never grow tired of, as he pillaged Will's mouth, his tongue exploring. 

Will let him, pulling him closer and grinding against him harshly. After a moment, one of the hands that were clinging to him moved lower, his hand wrapping around their lengths. Hannibal couldn't help but let out a breath of surprise, having ignored his own erection until this point. 

There was no finesse to their movements as Will's hand moved over both their lengths with both of them thrusting into his hand. After a moment, Hannibal wrapped one of his own hands around them as well, increasing the pressure and friction just slightly. 

The other gave almost a choked sound as he orgasmed, his body tensing in Hannibal's grasp. The hand that was still clinging to the back of his neck tightened and Hannibal wondered what people would make of the half-moons just below his hairline. 

He wasn't far behind Will, as the other's pleasure was enough to drag him to his edge and then throw him over rather dramatically. 

The shower smelled of sex and heat and Hannibal had never smelled anything better. 

After several moments, both of them realized the reason they were in the shower in the first place. He was surprised to find that, now that Will's arousal was quenched, he was rather shy under Hannibal's touch. That didn't stop him, though, from mirroring his movements. Hannibal was careful when it came to washing the still fresh looking bite on Will's shoulder while Will took extra time in washing the scratches down his back. He had caught a glimpse of them before, and couldn't help but think of them as wings. 

By the time the two of them left the shower, he was certain it was the longest he had ever spent in there. 

Will laughed when Hannibal pushed an aftershave his way. 

"That's what all this was about. You just wanted me to change my aftershave."

"I'll admit it is an advantage." 

When Hannibal looked at the time, he was pleased to note there was still plenty to waste with only him and Will before the world around them filtered back in. Will followed him to the kitchen only to raise an eyebrow when Hannibal began pulling breakfast ingredients from the refrigerator. 

"You weren't joking about wanting to be ready." 

Hannibal watched the other through his lashes. "A healthy breakfast is the best way to start the day." 

"I just need coffee." 

"Coffee is not a breakfast," Hannibal answered, though he moved to prepare them coffee anyway. "I thought perhaps I expanded your palette." 

Will huffed out a laugh. "An expanded palette doesn't mean better eating habits." 

Hannibal's lips twitched. Will was right, but the possessive side of Hannibal wanted to flare. 

_I want you to eat well._

Will must have seen it, the thoughts running behind his eyes, because the other moved around the counter and to Hannibal's side without so much as a protest to do whatever task Hannibal gave him. As always, Will continued to surprise him. When Hannibal turned, he was met with a rather soft, chaste kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Will needed to see a therapist to talk about his therapist. 

And, more importantly, the fact that he was falling in love with him. 

He had effectively been avoiding Hannibal for two days now. Ever since that damned crime scene that drew him from Hannibal's house and back into reality. It was so easy to lose himself in Hannibal that he would forget the rest of the world existed. Only it came crashing in rather violently no matter how much Will wanted it to keep it at bay. It was easy, at first, to stay in the little world he and Hannibal had concocted. Even on the drive to the crime scene, though they were in separate cars, Will could feel Hannibal with him as though he had crawled under his skin. And when they were there, it was easy enough to ignore everyone else at the scene except for Hannibal who easily fell into step with him. That was until he saw the body. 

Will was used to having memories that didn't belong to him at this point. There were memories that he had that were so vivid, sometimes he was certain he lived them himself. 

The body was effectively crucified, with the hands and feet nailed to a cross that stood ten feet in the air, forcing them all to look up at it. Will could see the bruises on the neck, as though the man had been strangled before he was hoisted up onto the cross. The shadow cast on the ground in the morning sun loomed even more than the cross itself, stretching further as though it could reach more than just those around it. Will could see every moment that led to the man's death, the righteous anger associated with the act. That, coupled with the religious symbolism, was meant to portray an act of betrayal and subsequently forgiveness. 

But all Will could see, after he initially looked at the body, was Hannibal Lecter instead. 

He could see Hannibal balancing precariously on a bucket, arms bound to a piece of wood, wrists slit, and a noose around his neck. 

And Will couldn't look anymore. 

He had run from crime scenes before, but never this fast. He vaguely heard people calling for him, including Hannibal, but for some reason, he couldn't force himself to stay. His strange need to run was only worsened when he looked in the rearview mirror and saw Hannibal shrinking into the distance. 

The killer had been easy to find and even easier to apprehend. The man had admitted to it, walking out onto his front porch with his hands up before dropping to his knees. Will hadn't slept between the time he left the crime scene and the day the man was found, two days later. Even if he didn't admit to it, DNA evidence didn't lie. He couldn't help but notice before he left, the cross that hung around the man's neck. 

"I know what you're thinking," The man said as he was being escorted to the back of a squad car. "Why the cross?"

Will searched the man's green eyes. "You wanted to forgive him." 

"No." The man smiled sadly, sandy blond hair shaking with the movement of his head. "No. I wanted to save him. In the end." 

Will had not stopped thinking about that since. The hour drive back to his house and the two hours he had been home were filled with thoughts that raged around his tired mind like a tornado. He couldn't control which way they went, they were flying around madly and Will was being torn apart by the shrapnel. 

Betrayal. Forgiveness. Savior. Saved. 

Could Hannibal Lecter be saved? Could he?

Did he even want to be saved?

Will ran his hands through his hair for what was likely the millionth time at that point. His hair was probably standing on end. He was tired, and all he could do is think. His brain hadn't stopped for two days and it was still running. Part of him hoped that the conclusion of the case would bring him some kind of resolution. But instead, it left him with more questions and even fewer answers. He had likely worn a path in his floor, unable to stop his body from physically manifesting the turmoil in his mind. The dogs loved it though, as he had walked with them while they ran outside. He did normally too, but this far was longer than normal. He had finished off most of a bottle of whiskey and with no food on board and yet nothing did anything to shut off his damned mind. 

He was acutely aware of two things by the time the sun set. He wasn't certain he wanted to be saved, and he was falling in love with the one person who made him crave damnation. 

Hannibal had stayed away after Will left the crime scene. He knew that Hannibal was giving him space, time to clear his mind after he had effectively turned tail and run. It wasn't something that Will did often, but it wasn't the first time he had done it.

He had run from his past once.

It wasn't that it was inherently bad. Will's father had done the best he could for Will growing up. Will had always been a little bit different, and they were always a little underfed and overworked. When he left, it was for another life, a better one. A darker one. His father was a good man, even if he wasn't always best at relating to people — something Will could understand. He and his father hadn't spoken in years, though that didn't mean Will wasn't tempted to call him. He almost did as he was being hauled to BSCHI. He had a chance to call someone, anyone. At first, he thought of Hannibal, who he eventually found his way to, but then he thought about his father. He didn't talk about his father much, only mentioned that he followed him from port to port up and down the Mississippi. Most assumed Will's dad was dead, and he let them. He had ultimately decided against calling his dad for one simple reason.

His father didn't need this. 

He didn't want to drag his father into his life, especially after he realized who Hannibal was. 

Will took a drink of the whiskey still in his hand before abandoning the glass on his bedside table. He was just about to sit down on his bed when the dogs' head shot up and looked at the door. Will froze for a moment before the dogs stood, barking. He shushed them, moving toward the door.

He opened it after the first knock.

* * *

Hannibal barely had time to put his hand down when the door opened for him. 

Will looked exhausted. His hair was strangely unkempt, making it look shaggier and all the more endearing. Hannibal could smell the whiskey on his breath, even though they were still a foot or two apart. 

Will's eyes flashed with something before he sighed and stepped aside to let Hannibal enter. He did, stepping through the familiar threshold and into a familiar house. He knew Will's house just as well as he knew his own. He had been there quite often but rarely was he here with Will at the same time. He had carefully constructed his previous plan when Will wasn't home. It was Will who opened the door for him when he took a case and asked Hannibal to feed his dogs. But the last time Hannibal was there, Will was led from the place in handcuffs. It would be a lie to say he hadn't returned since. 

He had once. 

It was one of the far lonelier days he'd had when Will was in BSCHI. But it wasn't the same. 

And it was nothing like it was now. 

He had stayed away for two days. He had seen the look on Will's face at the crime scene and he knew exactly what he was thinking about. Hannibal's wrists had ached for the last two days. Or maybe it wasn't really his wrists that ached, but something much deeper. Will's very presence lit up the main room of his house with life and burned through the cold, dull ache in Hannibal's chest. His wrists didn't ache now, the scars on them all but forgotten. 

The other watched him as the two of them danced around each other so Will could closer the door. 

His hand flexed at his side, part of him aching to reach out to touch the other. Will seemed to see the movement and pushed off the door, moving closer. He reached for Hannibal's hands, lifting and turning them so his palms were upward and the edges of the scars on his wrists exposed. Whatever ache Will seemed to feel within him was gone the moment his eyes found Hannibal's face as the look on his face when Will first opened the door was completely different from the relaxed and somewhat content. 

He mirrored Will's demeanor, finding himself much more content in the other's presence. 

Hannibal pulled one of his hands free from Will's grasp and found the other's hip, dragging their bodies closer together. 

"I forgive you," He whispered, bringing his hand up Will's body and to the back of his neck. "Can you forgive me?" 

Their foreheads pressed together and Will sighed. 

"Yes." 

He didn't know how long they stood there, the two of them just holding each other slightly, with one of Will's hands still grasping his wrist and the other on his hip. For once, he found he didn't want to keep track of every little second. He was always in control of the situation, even when it appeared he wasn't. But here, now, with Will so vulnerable and the two of them teetering on the edge of something that he didn't quite know yet, he was willing to give it up. But only to Will. He'd fall to his knees now if that's what it took. 

"I just want to sleep," Will said eventually, sounding as tired as he looked. "Will you stay?"

"Yes." 

He found himself on Will's bed, which was smaller than his own, in a pair of pajama pants that were just a little too small and facing Will. The other was facing him in return, their legs tangled together, and arms draped over each other's bodies. Will was blinking rapidly as though he was fighting to keep his eyes open. After a moment, he shifted forward, closing the small distance between them and gently laying his head on Hannibal's arm. Hannibal knew Will hated touch and was nowhere near as comfortable as Hannibal when it came to expressing physical affection. Hannibal had no qualms about touching Will, he craved it. And while Will would lean into his touch, he was rarely the one to instigate it. So, Hannibal was more than willing to hold the precious gift Will had given him gently, feeling their bodies so close. 

He waited until Will fell asleep before falling asleep himself, holding the other just a little tighter.

* * *

When Will woke, he was slightly surprised to find his face buried in the back of Hannibal's neck, with his arm looped over his waist and Hannibal's back against his chest. Will's arm was trapped between one of Hannibal's and his body, the other serving as Hannibal's pillow. He was just as surprised that he woke before Hannibal did, though he was more than willing to take advantage of the rather rare sight. 

Hannibal's face was tranquil, at least what Will could see if it. His body was plastered against Will's as though they had been molded together, with Hannibal's fingers clutching his wrist. 

It didn't last though, as Hannibal began to stir slowly. 

While he had the chance, he thought back to the night before and Hannibal's forgiveness, coupled with his own plea for it. The other's voice had been calm and even, his face had been just as relaxed as it had been since he entered Will's house, but his eyes told a different story. He was worried and felt guilty for the things he had taken from Will, for the things he had done in the past. Guilt wasn't a normal emotion for Hannibal, and Will could see him struggling with it. 

That was likely the primary reason he had forgiven him. Hannibal rarely felt guilty about anything. He saw the rest of the world as inferior to him and the rudest were no better than pigs. For Hannibal to feel guilt, he would likely have to see someone as his equal. And Will knew that Hannibal saw him as his equal. 

Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have Hannibal and the alluring darkness they both shared. Maybe he could forgive the one person he never truly had. 

Himself. 

Hannibal's fingers twitched before he moved Will's hand, pressing his knuckles to his lips. 

"You'd be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself," Hannibal murmured, sleep still thick in his voice. 

Before Will could come up with any clever comeback, a series of knocks echoed on his front door. 

Hannibal hummed. "You should get that." 

Will shifted slightly and Hannibal lifted his head so he could reclaim his arm. The other rolled onto his back, watching him as he moved first to the dresser to grab a shirt and then to the door. Hannibal didn't seem to care if he was found half-naked in Will's bed, as the awareness came to his eyes followed quickly by thinly veiled amusement. 

Will padded to the front door, opening it, only for his heart to stop the moment he saw who was on the other side.

"Abigail?"


	7. Chapter 7

"I brought breakfast." Abigail looked down at the bag in her hand. "Or well, the makings of breakfast."

Will's eyes followed the movement before looking back up at her face. Why that was enough to break him from the stupor he was in, he didn't know. But as Hannibal reached around him to grab the bag from her hand, Will lunged forward. Abigail hugged him back, letting go of the food in favor of fisting a hand in the back of Will's sleep shirt. She had her head buried in Will's shoulder while he stared into the middle distance. 

Was he awake? 

Was he really being given the chance for everything he wanted right now?

He was acutely aware of two things as he pulled Abigail into the house, letting the door shut. One, if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. Two, Freddie Lounds would have to die. 

Breakfast wasn't a great affair. It was strange to have both Hannibal and Abigail crammed into his tiny table in what passed for his dining room which was really just the far wall of his kitchen. Hannibal had used one of his sweaters which was just a little too small for him and stretched over his back in just the right way that Will found himself staring when looking over Abigail's shoulder at where Hannibal was in the kitchen. If Abigail noticed, she didn't say anything and by midmorning, she was gone, leaving Will and Hannibal alone. 

Will stood leaning against the door as he watched the nondescript car Abigail was in drive away. The dogs were running and tripping over each other in the slightly warmer winter air. Hannibal was sitting on the chair on his porch, watching him closely. The other hadn't bothered dressing and Will wasn't bothering to send him away. He waited until the taillights of the car vanished down the drive before turning toward Hannibal. 

"Why?" 

"I suppose that depends on which question you are asking. Why did I fake her death? Why did I keep it from you? Why did I have her come here this morning?" Will didn't bother answering which he meant. Hannibal didn't bother answering either, as Will knew all the answers he could possibly come up with. 

He had faked Abigail's death so he could frame Will and so she could have a life that wasn't tied to Garret Jacob Hobbs. And since he still wasn't certain of Will's becoming, he wasn't going to allow Will and Abigail to be together. More and more he understood Hannibal's mindset and more and more he was beginning to understand his own. It was a control technique and one that Hannibal had put all the pieces into place to deal with. If Will had betrayed him, he doubted Abigail would live. Except-

He wasn't certain if that was the case anymore. Hannibal had only stayed the night because Will asked him to. And he certainly didn't tell Abigail to come over from the time he arrived to the time they went to sleep. It was possible he woke up and did it at some point, but Will doubted it. Hannibal had asked the night before if Will forgave him, maybe he was worried Will would say no and had arranged for Abigail to come over as a peace offering. Or was it another manipulation?

It was hypocritical of him to worry about manipulations when he was manipulating Hannibal this way and that into whatever he wanted. But Will wasn't certain what he wanted anymore. 

He no longer wanted to kill the other man. He wasn't even certain he wanted him jailed anymore. In fact, he was all too certain he was in love with him. 

And that made everything, including Hannibal, far too dangerous. 

Yet Will wanted the danger. More and more he wanted Hannibal. And that was far counterproductive to the goal he told Jack he had in mind. 

But instead of focusing on that, he cocked his head slightly before whistling for the dogs who trotted up to the door. Will ventured inside, letting his fingers linger on the doorway for a second before entering his house. Hannibal followed, shutting the door behind him softly. He didn't make it to the bed before Hannibal's arms were around him, pulling him closer. 

The other buried his face in Will's neck, inhaling slightly before mouthing at the skin there. Will leaned back into the other. 

He should feel somewhat guilty about using sex in such a way. But honestly, he couldn't help but think they both needed it right now, even if for different reasons. 

Hannibal turned his attentions, and Will's head, to the other side, repeating the same thing he had done before. 

"Did you just smell me?" Will asked, his question and allusion to another time coming out breathlessly. 

"Difficult to avoid." 

Hannibal's teeth sunk into his neck and Will groaned slightly, reaching back to cup the back of Hannibal's head and holding him in place. The other didn't shrug off his touch, but rather moved to his ear, mouthing at the shell of it before sinking his teeth into his ear lobe. They stood like that for a moment more, before Hannibal's other hand dropped to his hip. He groaned at the touch, mostly because of how good it felt. 

He was well aware before they started down this avenue of their relationship that he had feelings for Hannibal beyond just that of friendship, no matter what he told people or even himself. They were only worse now. Hannibal seemed more alive when he was around Will, and Will felt every bit the being Hannibal saw him as. 

He turned in the other's grasp until they were face to face. Their eyes met moments before their lips and Will thought he would drown in this feeling. This feeling that was distinctly Hannibal. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted to bathe in it and never leave. He wanted Hannibal's touch seared into his bones. He wanted to feel the heat of the other's hands on him and he wanted Hannibal to feel him at all times. He wanted his touch branded on Hannibal's heart. 

He captured the other's lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly before letting it go. The effect that had was nothing short of spectacular as Hannibal began breathing heavier, his eyes hungry and possessive. It was a beautiful sight. 

"Where do you want me?" He asked.

It didn't occur to him to close the curtains.

* * *

Alana never considered herself one for fear. Healthy skepticism and awareness? Certainly. Fear? No. But now she wasn't certain who she was afraid of anymore. 

Will was no longer the person she knew. Or maybe he was and he wasn't hiding anymore which she couldn't help but think was the case. Then there was Hannibal. She kept telling herself it was Will and his words getting in her head, making her think things that weren't entirely true. That was until she realized he knew she had been shooting, learning how to defend herself as Will recommended. Hannibal had been cold that day, unwelcoming. Which was strange. Even when he tried to appear pleasant, obviously for Alana's benefit, there was still something in his eyes. Something that told her she wasn't needed anymore. That she was replaced by someone who she could never live up to. 

She had a terrible feeling who that might be. 

That was the day after Randall Tier's body was discovered. She suspected it was Will who did it, but Tier had been a patient of Hannibal's previously. Had he sent Tier after Will as an act of revenge for Will sending Matthew Brown after him? Was Will's kill self-defense and she had been afraid of the wrong person the whole time?

Fear was a tricky emotion, one that wasn't always rational and always incredibly difficult to navigate. Sometimes fear looked in the right room, just the wrong corner.

It didn't help that Freddie Lounds had found her too. 

Freddie was convinced that neither Will nor Hannibal was the killer she was looking for individually, though both in her eyes were killers and insane. But she thought that together they could be something more. Something dangerous and unstoppable. 

If that was true, part of Alana worried what would happen should they ever be separated. 

Things were happening around her, and she couldn't help but feel as though she were blinded to most of it. Something was happening with Will, Jack, and Hannibal, or some combination of the three and she felt as though she were trying to put together a puzzle without all the pieces. 

She was immediately struck by two things as she drove up to Will's house. The first was that there was a set of tracks leading either to or away from the house in the dirt of Will's driveway. That could easily be attributed to the second thing in that Alana found her car parked behind Hannibal's Bentley. She ignored the fact that the dirt under the car was dry, indicating it had likely been there through the snowfall of the night and subsequent melt of the next morning and instead made her way to the front door of Will's house. Maybe she and Hannibal would be like ships in the night, passing by one another with Will there as a buffer between them. 

She and Hannibal hadn't officially ended their relationship, but Alana couldn't help but feel as though there was never really a relationship, to begin with. Maybe there had been for her, but whatever she was blind to included the real feelings of Hannibal Lecter. 

She had barely stepped up on the porch when she caught sight of something through the curtains. There were two ways for one to find themselves on Will's porch. They could walk directly up in front of the front door or from the side by the driveway. 

Alana had walked from the driveway and sideways onto the porch, so it was easier for her to creep unnoticed toward the window. Part of her worried she had just stumbled on Will's murder, but what she saw was equally as intimate but in a different direction. 

Will was on his knees, clearly straddling what Alana could only assume was Hannibal Lecter's lap. Hannibal was sitting up, his arms wrapped around Will's body with one hand in his hair and the other down where the two of them were connected. Will's head was dropped forward onto Hannibal's shoulder, his body bent just slightly while Hannibal mouthed at the skin of his shoulder. As Alana watched, Hannibal dragged the hand that was in Will's hair down the other's back, leaving fine scratches in his wake. After a moment, the two of them rocking together, Hannibal shuddered and his grip moved back to Will's head, holding him in place. After a moment, the two of them shifted and Alana could part of Hannibal's face over Will's shoulder. It was just enough to see the adoring look Hannibal had and for Alana to notice the way he was petting through the other's hair as if he were something precious. The two of them fell back on the bed as Will presumably went in for a kiss. 

She couldn't watch anymore, turning to stifle the frustrated, betrayed, and anguished noise that worked its way into her throat. 

She wasn't certain about anything anymore or which of them was telling her the truth about anything.

* * *

Afterward, Will and Hannibal lied on his bed, both of them on their sides and their hands busy tracing patterns over sweat coated skin. 

The marks they left on each other were identical to the marks the first night, except they bore the opposite ones of what they had before. Will now had long scratches down his back which tingled slightly while Hannibal had a vivid bite on his shoulder. He couldn't help but think it fitting that the damage they did to each other was equal, the marks they left just as deep as the ones they were given. 

He was glad it was Saturday, as he had every excuse to keep Hannibal in his bed and to keep them in the bubble they created for themselves. 

He couldn't help but wonder if there was even a world outside Hannibal Lecter. Everything in his life revolved around him. Hannibal was like a drug and Will was an addict. He thought that worked in reverse too. 

His eyes trailed back up Hannibal's body to his face, finding that same adoring look he had seen earlier. And he was utterly trapped by it. Mostly because — while he was certain he was most probably in love with Hannibal — he was beginning to wonder if Hannibal was also in love with him. 


	8. Chapter 8

"It's been a week. Over a week." Jack was sitting behind his chair, his voice sounding calm but his eyes betraying that he was as far from calm as any one person could be. "Randall Tier died over a week ago and I still have nothing. We have nothing. Whatever you're doing, it's not working." 

Will stood as loosely as he could, which wasn't all that loose. Instead, he was frustrated. He wasn't entirely certain if his frustration was really his at all or if it was Jack's. Or worse, it really was his but he wasn't frustrated for what someone else, namely Jack, would consider the right reason. Will's sense of right and wrong had long since gone out the window, but it wasn't as though Jack was entirely innocent either. Using Will as bait for Hannibal wasn't exactly what most people would consider the right thing. And the road to Hell is indeed paved with good intentions. Strangely enough, the road for Will led right to Hannibal. But what he would do when he was there was still anyone's guess. 

"I can only stall I.A. for so long." 

Will sighed. "It was in self-defense. Even I.A. knows that."

"Was it?" He was pinned under Jack's scrutinizing stare before the other man relented and let out a small sigh. "You and I both know that if this goes south it's both our asses. I need some assurance that you know what you're doing."

"I know what I'm doing Jack." He avoided looking directly at the other. "I told you, I'm a good fisherman."

Jack heaved a sigh before looking at Will once more. "Don't let empathy confuse what you want with what Lecter wants."

Why that of all things seemed to crawl under Will's skin, he didn't know. He subconsciously rubbed at the back of his neck as if he could tear the empathy out from the back of his head by his brainstem. He'd had a small suspicion for a while that maybe he was no longer certain where he ended and Hannibal began and that was only made worse by his empathy. It was so easy for the two of them to bury themselves in each other. Truthfully, it was easy for Will to bury himself in anyone, but not the same way he buried himself in Hannibal. Eventually, Will could crawl away from the minds of the killers, though part of them was always stuck running around in the back of his head. He never forgot anything, except for his encephalitis. So part of those killers was always there, running around in the darkness. But Hannibal wasn't just in the darkest parts of his mind.

Hannibal was everywhere. He was painted behind Will's eyelids, his touch was seared into Will's every movement, his voice was Will's internal monologue. 

Hannibal was everywhere even when he was nowhere. 

Maybe Jack was right and he had been so busy focusing on capturing his prey that he forgot his prey was also a predator. 

He needed a break. But all he wanted to do was go back to Hannibal. 

Jack said something more that Will wasn't paying attention to before he realized he was obviously dismissed. He trudged through the building, not bothering to look back. What would he even look back to? What had come out of this that was worth looking to the past for? What was worth looking into the past for at all?

Will didn't realize where he was going until he found himself already having driven an hour out of his way into Baltimore and toward Hannibal's house. Hannibal would be there yet, but he could wait and would wait. It wasn't the first time he waited for Hannibal to return, but this time he wasn't even stealing a wine glass for his use. Instead, as he walked inside Hannibal's house, he found himself heading to a familiar room. 

It wasn't the same as burying himself in Hannibal himself, but it was close enough. It was safe. Or as close to safe as he could be at the moment anyway.

Will woke to a soft kiss being pressed against his lips and a hand carding through his hair. It was dark outside and the room seemingly even darker as he blinked awake. He could see Hannibal though, or at least the outline of him and the shine of his amber eyes. 

"Come eat," Hannibal said quietly, pulling away. 

"What time is it?" Will asked, rolling onto his back and stretching. 

"7:30."

"It's our appointment time." He sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge. 

"I had a feeling I wouldn't find you at the door. Imagine my surprise when I found your car outside my house and then you in my bed." 

"You weren't surprised." 

Will could almost feel Hannibal's soft smile. "No, I wasn't." 

He followed Hannibal to the dining room, albeit less gracefully. The other moved through the house with an air of smugness similar to the cat that got the cream. Hannibal was dressed in a dark grey and crimson suit with a light grey paisley tie. He couldn't help but admire the suit, though part of his brain suggested that it would look better on the floor. He was seated to Hannibal's right, the other taking his place at the head of the table. Sometimes, they were seated across from each other, a setting that felt more like equals. But this wasn't Hannibal retreating back into his superiority, his place at the head. He couldn't help but think that the other would have gladly placed Will there instead. It wasn't about the superiority of being at the head of the table. It was the closeness. 

He didn't pay enough attention to what the meal was. He knew it was delicious, he could smell it from the other side of the house, but it wasn't the food he wanted to focus on. Instead, it was Hannibal. Always Hannibal. 

No, he couldn't tell where he ended and Hannibal began. And he wasn't certain he wanted to anymore. 

After dinner and the dishes, he tugged Hannibal closer, needing to feel his touch. Hannibal came willingly and Will sighed as he rested his head on the other's chest, right at his clavicle. 

"I have to take care of the dogs." 

"I understand." Hannibal's hands were gently stroking over his back. 

"Come with me." The words slipped out before he could stop them, but the moment they were out he knew he meant them. He straightened himself somewhat, grasping at the back of Hannibal's head and tangling his fingers in silky smooth hair. "Come with me." He wasn't certain though he was just asking Hannibal to come to his house. He thought maybe he was asking for something more, something that he didn't even fully realize yet. If the other realized it, he didn't say anything, only nodded and then told Will he would meet him at the door. 

He ran his hands over his face as he waited, eventually finding Hannibal appear at his side with an overnight bag in hand. Will smiled slightly to himself. He would have gladly offered Hannibal the same pants he wore the last time, but they might have been uncomfortably small. 

Three hours later, they were in Will's bed with Will staring at the ceiling and Hannibal staring at him. He probably could have told Hannibal not to bother with pajamas in any form, as neither of them was wearing clothes now. He was still breathing heavily as he stared above him, not really looking at anything in particular. His mind was blissfully empty except for one thought and it was the same thought that had been running circles around his mind for days now. 

He turned slightly, finding Hannibal's eyes in the darkness. 

Immediately, he was trapped in the other's gaze. He wasn't truly trapped. Instead, he wanted to linger in it. 

He rolled onto his side facing the other fully in the darkness. Hannibal's hand was tracing patterns over his abdomen before he shifted to Will's face as though he were memorizing everything under his fingertips. Will reached forward, letting his fingertips dance over Hannibal's cheekbone. He leaned forward, part of him wanting to go for a kiss, but a much larger part of him wanting something else. His lips grazed Hannibal's cheek as he reached for the light over the other's shoulder on the bedside table, illuminating the room. The dogs' heads popped up for a second before they readjusted themselves and settled back on their bed. Will settled back onto his own, looking over Hannibal as he did. 

Hannibal's gaze jumped over him in the light, seeing every bit of his body that was bared to him, which was most of it except for his feet which were buried under the discarded covers below them. Will, however, was focused on Hannibal. He didn't know where the urge to see the other came from, but now that he saw him, he didn't want to look away. Something similar to recognition flickered through Hannibal's eyes as their gazes met again. 

The other's hand came back to his face, his thumb stroking his cheek. And the whole world melted away. Nothing mattered. He didn't want anything to matter. Except for Hannibal. 

They shifted forward at the same time, closing what little space was between them as their lips met again. Hannibal's lips were swollen from harsh kisses previously, and he doubted his were any better, but these kisses weren't the harsh, bruising kind. But these were the kind that sunk into a person's soul. 

Emotions clogged Will's throat as he pushed closer to the other, clinging to him with the hand that was still on the side of his face. He moved closer, draping his leg over Hannibal's waist to hold their bodies together more. It wasn't long until they were rolling with Hannibal hovering over him as they continued to kiss. He hadn't had a good make-out session since college, but even this was, whatever this was, was so much better than that had ever been. The other's hand shifted from his face to grasp Will's hand, pulling it away from his face, and tangling their fingers together. 

Will's hand was pinned to the bed, fingers flexing over Hannibal's, when the other pulled away slightly to look at him. 

Oh.

_Oh._

His breath was caught in his chest as he looked up into the intense, adoring gaze of Hannibal Lecter. Right then, he could see that the mask was down. Everything was bared to Will. He could see the pain. He could see the man under the monster. He could see everything. 

Hannibal loved him.

And he loved Hannibal. 

Their eyes were still locked, fingers still laced together, as Hannibal's lower body shifted slightly, his erection pushing back into Will's used hole. But this was so much different. 

Hannibal's movements were slow and his eyes never left Will's. Will drew himself up slightly, wrapping his legs around Hannibal's waist so their movements, still slow, would be easier. Hannibal's lips were parted as he watched Will. He looked as though he were seeing the most beautiful thing on the planet and he was unwilling to see anything else. Will swallowed thickly as he continued meeting the other's gaze, finding himself sinking more and more into the emotions that were threatening to bury him alive. And God did he want that. 

Hannibal grazed his prostate and he let out a low, broken moan in response. He watched, with no shortage of amusement, as Hannibal's pupils widened just slightly at the sound. He watched the way Hannibal swallowed at each thrust, the way his body moved as he thrust into Will, the roll of his muscles. But every time he would return to his eyes, finding that same raw gaze waiting for him. 

It must have taken so much for Hannibal to let down the mask completely but Will saw it for what it was. 

He was relinquishing control. He was putting everything, himself included, into Will's hands to with what he pleased. He couldn't help but think that he could have killed Hannibal right now, and Hannibal wouldn't care. He wouldn't fight, he wouldn't do anything unless Will told him to. He had surrendered to Will. What about this moment made him surrender, Will didn't care. Because he was all too certain of his own surrender too. 

He pulled himself upward slightly, capturing Hannibal's lips. They fell back onto the bed and Will had never felt so close to another person. He had been alone, so alone, until Hannibal. He had had his father, certainly. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't this connection. It wasn't the feeling as though he were wrapped in another person.

They were conjoined. 

Hannibal pulled out of him before using his other hand to slick up Will's cock and then sank down on it. Will groaned loudly. Hannibal hadn't bothered to ready himself or even give Will a chance to do so, and as a result, he was incredibly tight when he sunk down onto Will. It must have burned, but he couldn't help but think that Hannibal had wanted it to for a reason. To tell Will he would consent to pain at his touch. That he would willingly bleed or feel pain for him. 

The pace they set this time was still just as slow, even as he rolled them so Hannibal was under him. Their hands were still locked together, only it was now Hannibal's that was pinned to the bed. He could feel the other's fingers flexing between his before his grip tightened. Will angled his thrusts to brush against Hannibal's prostate. The other moaned, but he never took his eyes off Will. 

He wanted to bury himself in Hannibal Lecter and never leave. 

He shifted himself, lowering to press his lips against Hannibal's while he wrapped his free hand around the other's cock. 

Hannibal came first from all the attention Will was giving him. He wasn't far behind him as Hannibal's body had tightened even more around him making the next few thrusts send waves of pleasure through Will until he fell over that edge too. 

That hadn't felt like sex. It hadn't felt like their rushed endeavors of the past. 

Was that making love?

* * *

Hannibal was in love. He was in love with the beautiful creature currently showering kisses on his clavicle after their most recent entwining. He hadn't been able to look anywhere else than at his lover this time, finding his brilliant ocean colored eyes and the raw emotion behind them beautiful. Hannibal loved Will. And Will loved him back.

He had known for a while that he was in love with Will Graham, it wasn't news to him. He had known for a while now, ever since Tobias Budge. Certainly, he was obsessed with Will before that. But only when he felt the pain of the other's loss, which turned out to not be the case, did he know he loved him. He wasn't entirely certain when Will started loving him back, but he had seen it more and more over the last few days. Hannibal had no problems when it came to expressing his feelings, though his love language was both the same and different from Will. He enjoyed touch or acts. More than anything he wished to draw Will as the beautiful being he saw him as. Will seemed to be more physical. And perhaps there was an aspect of acting in there too. This aspect of their relationship had started with dragging Tier's body to him like a cat with its kill.

Will only let go of his hand to cup his face, straddling his lap as he did so, and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. They were both a mess, having not cleaned up from either of their lovemaking sessions. 

Like the first time they had found themselves so entangled, Will seemed almost frantic with his need to keep the world at bay. And Hannibal was inclined to agree. 

There was no body to dispose of, nothing was waiting for them immediately. 

He could have what he wanted.

After a few minutes, and the two of them cleaning themselves up, they were back in Will's bed. Though it didn't feel like Will's bed so much as their bed. 

It hadn't been very long that they had been exploring this aspect of their relationship, but they had known each other for a while now and were so deeply wrapped around and within each other that it could have been a lifetime between them at this point. 

Will was lying now in his grasp, their heads sharing a pillow while Hannibal's bicep was under the other's neck and his hand cupping the other's shoulder. Will's hand was resting on his neck and their legs were tangled together below them under the blankets they had pulled up. 

He could see the cogs starting to turn in the other's head as he began stroking his fingers through the other's hair. 

"What are you thinking?" He whispered.

"I should go see my dad." 

Hannibal was not expecting those words to come out of Will's mouth, especially since he thought Will's father was dead. 

"I thought," He began.

"I know." Will sighed, shifting himself a little closer to Hannibal as though he thought Hannibal might try moving away. "I let everyone think that. I didn't like the idea of dragging my father into my messes. He's a good man." 

"Why now?" 

"I haven't talked to him since before I was in BSCHI. I never told him I was locked up. I never told him I was acquitted. He deserves to know. And I figure I probably should before-" He cut himself off. 

"Before?" Hannibal prompted. 

"I don't know how much time I have before they come after me for Tier." 

Hannibal tensed. He had been so focused on everything that was Will Graham, he had forgotten that the other actually worked for the FBI and had committed a murder, though in self-defense, before mutilating the body and putting it on display. While Hannibal had a hand in all of that, he doubted he would be caught. And he doubted Will would have been either. Yet Will seemed to be certain the FBI would come for him. 

His mind began putting together the unsaid pieces while Will waited patiently, avoiding his eyes. The other was still, rigid in Hannibal's grasp. He could easily kill him right now if he wanted. But he didn't want to. Because he saw the rest of the message in Will's unsaid words. He had been working with the FBI to entrap Hannibal but had decided against it. And now it was only a matter of time for the murder that he committed to catch up to him. He had lured in Hannibal so easily but eventually decided to trap his prey for another reason. 

For himself.

And now he was asking for forgiveness for the things he had left unsaid. 

Hadn't Hannibal done the same thing? Hadn't he lured Will into a trap and then eventually asked for forgiveness by springing him from it? Hadn't they both run in circles around each other to lead them to this point. 

This beautiful creature in his arms was giving up so much for him. And there was nothing truly to forgive. He doubted that Will had given the FBI, or more likely Jack, anything usable. 

His choices at this moment could determine the rest of their futures. Rejection could send Will back down the path of revenge, the path that would ultimately lead Hannibal to a cell because he would rather be where Will could find him than anywhere else. Or he could see things for what they were. There was always the third option of murder, but he found he would rather be denied his freedom than denied Will's existence. 

He lifted his free hand to the other's face, pulling his chin upward so their lips could meet again. 

Will melted into the kiss, grasping at Hannibal. 

"Do you want me to go with you?" He asked when they parted. 

"Yes," Will answered softly. "But this is something I have to do alone." 


	9. Chapter 9

"Hi, Dad."

His father looked him over, before offering a rather wide smile. His father could be menacing when he wanted to be, with a deep scowl and hard eyes. But he was the exact opposite of that now. His father was better at expressing his emotions than he had ever been, but even he wasn't the best. But the look Will was met with was nothing short of loving and vaguely amused. 

"Last I heard you were locked up in some mental hospital." Will shifted from foot to foot. "Well don't just stand there." He waved his hand, gesturing for Will to come forward. He obeyed, shuffling down the dock until he was in arm's reach of his father. The other man grabbed him and hauled him closer into a crushing hug. Will still hated physical contact, had since he was a child, but he had grown more tolerant of it because of Hannibal. Their embrace was awkward, but not nearly as much as it had been in the past. "Let me look at you." His father said as he pulled away, turning Will's head this way and that. 

"You're looking healthy," He smiled slightly before patting Will on the shoulder. "Come on. Fresh catch. We'll eat and you can tell me why you're here." The other man looked him over again. "I'm guessing you either need to bury a body or you got married."

Will chuckled as he grabbed the container, ice and all, and hauled it over the side of the boat. "I haven't decided yet." 

His father chuckled. "Still with that dark humor of yours." 

His father hauled the fish over his shoulder and the two of them walked back up the dock in relative silence. Will didn't bother depositing the cooler in the back of his father's truck but instead deposited it in the back of his rental car. He had parked his car next to what he assumed was his father's truck and he found he was correct. His rental car was far shinier than his father's beat-up truck. He had Hannibal to thank for that.

Will hadn't let the other man come along, but that didn't stop Hannibal from making certain his presence was felt when he was physically absent. It was Hannibal who paid for his flight, his hotel room, and his rental car. No matter how much Will insisted, Hannibal had been relentless and ultimately won. He had also promised to take care of Will's dogs as he dropped Will off at the airport with a soft kiss that lingered throughout the flight on Will's lips. He had come here for distance, or so he told himself. Jack's words lingered in his head but Hannibal's touch lingered everywhere else. 

He followed his father to a house that was nicer than the ones they grew up in, and actually quite resembled his house now. 

He wasn't at all surprised when he was greeted with a dog at the front door. The dog, Lily, he found out was old and blind, but she had needed a home and his father obliged. 

Will looked around the house that belonged to Beaumont "Beau" Graham. It resembled Will's home almost uncannily, as though Will had been carrying a piece of his father with him without even realizing it. The house was two stories with a small porch but the bed was downstairs and was surrounded by scattered boat parts. There was a small fireplace that looked like it had rarely been used and a worn-down dog bad in front of it. The kitchen was nothing spectacular and would probably be frowned on by Hannibal. He doubted his father's eating habits were any better than his, a fish or two here and there with little garnishment. Nothing compared to the four-course meals Hannibal prepared for himself. 

Part of Will ached to put together the engine laying in pieces on the floor. Just like the boat he was working on, he could see all pieces and where they belonged. 

"You still fix boats?" His father asked, drawl entering his voice more now that he was becoming more comfortable.

"Sometimes," Will answered, kneeling to pet Lily. "I have one I'm working on now." 

"Is it for someone? Or for yourself?" 

That was an excellent question that Will no longer knew how to answer. Instead, he shrugged noncommittally. At the same time, his phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it. 

"What about for work? What are you doing?" 

"I consult with the FBI." He sighed, letting the dog rest. "I used to teach."

"Can't imagine either would pay for that shiny thing out there." His father handed him a glass with two fingers of whiskey that was identical to the one in his other hand. 

"It's a rental," Will answered, hauling himself into a chair. "Do you want help with dinner?" 

"Nah." His father smiled and took a sip of his drink. "I'm not a chef, but my cooking has improved since you were little."

Will chuckled and took a drink of whiskey. It was cheaper even than the stuff he bought for himself and burned a little more than usual, but it was still a memory of another time that tasted familiar to Will's expanded palate. 

"So," His father said after a moment of silence. "Why don't you tell me what happened to drag you all the way out here."

"You already know part of it." 

"Your hospital stay." Beau swirled with whiskey in his glass. "You were accused of murdering four women and plead unconsciousness until you were acquitted." 

"'Bout sums it up." Will could feel himself slipping back into his drawl. 

"That's not the whole story." Will looked up through his lashes at his father who was still watching him intently. "There's somethin' you're not telling me." 

"How do you know?" Will was asking his whiskey more than his father. 

"I raised you. I know you better than anyone. Or I did anyway." Will felt a flash of guilt. "Not a bad thing. You're an adult now." Beau took another sip of his drink. "But I still know when something's wrong with my boy." Will tapped his fingers on his glass, debating how much to say to the other. "Will, listen to me." He looked up, meeting identical ocean colored eyes. "I'm your father. Whatever trouble you're in, you can tell me." He was silent for a moment more. "Does it have anything to do with this Lecter fellow?"

"What do you know about him?" His voice wasn't very animated as he spoke.

Beau shrugged. "You accused him of murder. Tried to have him killed. Always dresses in suits. Eccentric looking fellow. Not a common name." 

"He's Lithuanian." 

"Well, that'll explain some of it." Will smiled to himself. Beau watched him for a moment longer. "The person you're deciding to murder or marry, it's him isn't it?" Will nodded. "Hmm." 

"Hmm?" Will mimicked, though more of a question.

"I'm surprised is all. Doesn't seem your type. Too-" Beau cut himself off.

"A man?" Will asked. He wouldn’t be surprised at some degree of homophobia from his father.

"Fancy?" Beau said instead. "Three-piece suits and shiny shoes." Will couldn't help but smile at the fact that his father's description of Hannibal's apparel mirrored his own. "You grew up in the nitty-gritty. Not afraid to get your hands dirty." 

_Hannibal's not afraid to get his hands dirty either._

"You accused him of being that murderer, the Chesapeake Ripper." Will didn't answer. "Is he?" Will still didn't answer, feeling emotions clog his throat. Even after everything, he couldn't bring himself to say this even to someone else completely removed from the situation. "You're different, Will." His father said after a moment. 

"I know." 

"Well," Beau said, rising from his chair. "I'm gonna get dinner started. You think about what you wanna tell me."

Will sat in silence while his father puttered around the kitchen. Eventually, a rather pleasant smell began to pervade the house and Will was transported to another place and another time. 

_"Ortolans are endangered." He was sitting across from Hannibal as the flames between them died slowly. But another flame was awakening in its wake._

_"Who amongst us is not?"_

_"I haven't been gorged, drowned, plucked, and roasted," Will smirked slightly. "Not yet."_

He couldn't escape Hannibal. Not really. Even when they were physically apart, Hannibal's presence was still felt. His back still stung slightly and his shoulder burned from a phantom bite that was barely there anymore. The man could probably rip another's jugular out with his teeth, and yet he had only done enough damage to Will to claim him, to mark him. Just as the same hands that had beaten a man to death hours before his and Hannibal's first step into the newest aspect of their relationship had only done enough damage to leave long lines down the other's back, but didn't hurt him.

Will flexed his right hand. It was effectively healed, with only small red patches where the skin had been torn from brutal contact. Just like with Hobbs, killing Tier was an act he liked. And just as he knew back when he was a cop, now that he started, he didn't truly want to stop. He knew Hannibal felt powerful when he killed, similar to the way he described God. Will felt powerful too. And with Hannibal, he felt strangely at peace. There was no mask with Hannibal Lecter, just him. The other had crawled so deep into Will's mind, knew it so well, that even in the grips of irrational panic from nightmares, Hannibal was able to coax him back. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, looking at the messages waiting for him. One was from Jack, telling him that he picked the worst time to go on vacation. But the other was from Hannibal. It was only a picture of his dogs all lined up at Hannibal's feet with Winston further in the background. Under it, Hannibal wrote, 'He's as stubborn as his father.'

"Dinner's ready," His father said, breaking him from his thoughts. 

What did he want to tell his father?

He followed his father into the kitchen, the man handing him a plate and gesturing to the small table in the corner for them to eat at. He was reminded of another meal at another time at a similar table. 

"How have you been?" Will asked, breaking the silence. 

"Oh you know," He did know, but he didn't say anything. "I get by. Still have the odd job here and there but some better paying benefactors." He waved his fork in the air. "Finally was able to pay for a house." He smiled sadly. "Wish I could have done it when you were little." He sighed slightly. "It's not much. But it's something." 

Will looked around at the house. "It's perfect. It's like my house." 

"And what's that like?" 

"More dog fur." 

His father laughed at that. "You always did find the strays." 

"Still do." 

"Is that what this Hannibal fellow is? A stray?" 

Will shrugged. "No more than I am." 

His father studied him for a moment. "Is he like you?" 

"Like me how?" Will was staring intently at his food now as though it would swallow him rather than the other way around.

"I raised you," His father declared once again. "Don't think I don't know you." Will hummed noncommittally. "I should meet this Hannibal." Beau declared. 

Will almost spit out his food. "You want to meet Hannibal?" 

"Well if you're going to need help burying his body or maybe marrying the man, I should meet him." 

Will choked down another bite of the food that now tasted like ash. He didn't want his father anywhere near Hannibal and vice versa. There were too many risks with a man as possessive as Hannibal around the only other person that could vie for Will's attention.

"I was joking about that," He muttered. 

"Really?" His father took a drink of the whiskey he had refilled. "Because you've been lookin' like someone heartsick since the moment I saw you until you pulled out that phone of yours. I'm guessing Hannibal was on the other end." 

"I don't mope," He protested weakly. The look his father gave him told him he didn't believe that for one second. Will sighed. His father deserved some honesty, didn't he? After everything? After the fact that Will had never told him about BSCHI and then his release. After he never told him about anything only to spring a surprise visit on him to escape his tangle of emotions regarding the man he should hate the most but didn't. He didn't look at his father but instead stared just to the left of his face; enough that it would seem like he was looking at him without making eye contact. "I've never known myself as well as I do when I'm with him."

"Hate to break it to you, but that's love kiddo." 

He sighed, wanting to be done with this conversation. He had come here to distance himself from Hannibal, not evaluate his feelings, and eventually realize more and more that he had truly fallen in love with the man. 

After dinner, he bid his father goodbye with the promise of returning the next day. They were going to go fishing, one of the few things Will could do that would clear his mind.

The drive back to his hotel was grueling, but all he wanted once he was there were more whiskey and some sleep. 

He managed the former. The latter was harder.

He answered his phone on the first ring. 

"Hello, Will." He sank back onto the bed. "How was your father?" 

"Exactly as I remember him. A little greyer." 

"Age is the one animal that eats us all." 

"He wants to meet you." 

"I'm honored." 

Will turned his head slightly, seeing Hannibal once again manifest next to him. He was only in a pair of pajama pants, as he so rarely wore a shirt — at least around Will — and lying on his back. He ached to move closer, to fold himself into those arms, to lose himself in Hannibal's grasp. He wanted to feel the touch that had become so familiar, to see the predator and the man that eagerly awaited his own. 

The two of them were silent for a moment, both basking in what they could have of the other's attention. This wasn't escaping from Hannibal's influence. They weren't apart, not truly. What little separation was between them was barely bearable and the only comfort either had was in this stolen moment right now. 

He took a deep breath, pulling him back for the dark edge that threatened to consume him. He couldn't lose himself so much in Hannibal so much that even a little separation was so terribly painful. It was an ache within him that he couldn't quite fill. 

"What will you do tomorrow?" Hannibal asked softly, filling the silence.

"My father and I are going fishing." 

"He taught you to fish," Hannibal said.

"Yes." Though he didn't need to give the other a confirmation. 

"I imagine that some part of that has stayed with you beyond the knowledge and subsequent acts of fishing." Will hummed, shifting his grip on the phone. "There's a chapel in Palermo, Normal Chapel." He closed his eyes as he listened to Hannibal speak, the picture the other was painting coming to life behind his eyelids. "Bold, beautiful, and timeless. With a single reminder of mortality. A skull, engraved in the floor."

"The entrance to your mind palace," Will breathed before he even knew what he was saying. 

"Yes."

Will couldn't help but think of the representation as some Frankenstein building; beautiful and superior to all around it and made of an amalgamation of other building's parts. His office would very well be there as well as his house. 

And likely the home he grew up in. 

"Not all corners of the mind are like that, light and bright. Some are dark." 

"What haunts the corners of your mind, Dr. Lecter?" 

"Other than you?" Hannibal asked.

"Am I a ghost now?" 

"No," He could almost see the smirk the other had at the comment. "But I feel your absence like a phantom limb. I long to stretch it, but nothing moves."

Will let out a slow breath. He knew the feeling acutely. 

"Another night, we'll speak of ghosts and that which haunts us." 

"All I need is a stream," Will said quietly, shifting the subject just slightly away from whatever was dark enough to haunt Hannibal Lecter of all people. "I just tilt my head back, close my eyes, and wade into the quiet of the stream." 

"I imagine then tomorrow will be quite relaxing for you." 

Will chuckled slightly. "It will be something." He swallowed. "What will tomorrow bring for you?" 

"Another day and hours closer till you board a plane." He couldn't swallow the lump in his throat now. "I will have something for you when you return." 

"Don't," He protested immediately. "You've already done enough." 

"Not yet." 

There would be no arguing with Hannibal. 

"You should sleep, Will." 

"So should you." 

"You are not certain what awaits you behind your eyelids, are you?" He shook his head, though it wasn't like Hannibal could hear it. "Put your phone on the charger and put it on speaker."

"Are you suggesting I fall asleep with you on the phone?" 

"Is it any different than falling asleep at my side?" 

Hannibal had a point. 

He obeyed, turning off the light and shifting himself in the bed to face the phone that was now on the edge, plugged into the wall. 

"Sleep, Will." 

The next day was spent on a boat with a lot of beers, sun, and a blind dog curled up at their feet. Will and his father made some small talk, about nothing in particular when the silence became too much. It was incredibly peaceful, just the two of them. Not the same peace he had with Hannibal, but peaceful nonetheless. There was no cell reception where they were, so he spent the day unbothered by likely a series of texts from Jack. 

The following day was spent similarly, with Will and his father tracing the past through the town they were in. Will couldn't help but smile to himself as he looked at the fence he had once jumped with a watermelon in hand. He was incredibly lucky he didn't do damage to himself then. 

By the time they returned to his father's house, he felt much more of the relief he had come to Louisiana for. 

For about ten seconds.

His phone rang and he groaned, pulling it from his pocket. 

"I'm on vacation, Jack."

"Freddie Lounds is missing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I know in canon the ortolans was actually later but as you can tell, canon does not matter.


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal wasn't surprised when he received not one but three phone calls in quick succession. The first was from Jack who informed him that Freddie Lounds was missing. While Jack didn't accuse him directly of having anything to do with Ms. Lounds's disappearance, Hannibal could hear the accusation just as clearly. He could also hear the possible accusation that could have been thrown Will's way if Hannibal hadn't planned everything as precisely as he did. The next was from Alana who warned him that Jack would likely be bringing him in for questioning as he had done with Miriam Lass. Hannibal remained unphased throughout both calls, having expected them. The third call he expected as well when it was Will's turn. But he expected anger, maybe a rant about how irrational it was to poke the bear when the bear was sniffing his direction already. That wasn't what he was met with.

"Hello, Will." 

"What would you say to having another mouth to feed?" He could hear the other's southern drawl in his voice, making him shiver just slightly. He wasn't normally affected by accents, but perhaps because it was Will's lips that the accent fell from was the reason it affected him. Will continued without Hannibal needing to question him. "I'm thinking of inviting my dad to come back with me for a little."

"I certainly won't balk at the idea of having company." He let the rest of the sentence remain unsaid. Of course, he would welcome Will's father to his table. But he would only do so if he had Will to himself afterward. Will likely picked up on that and he heard a small chuckle from the other end of the phone.

"That him?" A voice asked in the background. The drawl was more distinct in the voice in the background. The voice was slightly deeper than Will's, enough that he could begin to picture the man as something more than an abstract idea. "Don't stop flirting on my account. Just comin' to get more whiskey and I'll be out of your hair."

Will huffed in response and likely a withering stare. Hannibal longed to kiss those likely pouting lips. 

"I told you he wants to meet you." 

"I look forward to it. Will you need another ticket for him?" 

"No. I'm flying out tonight." It was three days earlier than he was expected back which meant he was likely giving his ticket to his father. 

"Is there a particular reason for your quick return?" Hannibal knew of course, but he was enjoying playing this game. Perhaps he should keep the meal had planned for the day Will's father arrived rather than Will's arrival. He could come up with another meal.

"Freddie Lounds is missing." Will didn't sound all that enthused.

"So I've heard." 

"Jack wants me to come back. It's useless in my opinion. Freddie had one too many enemies, pissed off too many people. There are any number of reasons someone could want her dead. And there's no body. She could just be in some shack somewhere without reception."

Will was smart enough to not say anything over an open phone line that could be incriminating. But it was the lack of incrimination that propelled Hannibal to take Freddie when he had the chance. Will was already under investigation — or would be soon — due to the death of Randall Tier. If Hannibal went after Freddie without Will having an alibi, it would surely blowback on the wrong person. But with Will safely states away, no one could look his way.

"What time do you land?" He assumed Will would come to Baltimore since his car and dogs were both at Hannibal's house. 

"Eight." 

Hannibal looked at his watch, seeing the time. He still had a couple of hours before Will was due, he could easily make a meal for them when they returned. 

"Don't." Will was answering his unspoken thoughts and Hannibal was all the more entranced with him. Even states away, he could so easily slide into Hannibal's mind like he belonged there. And he did. "We can figure out dinner when I get there." 

"As you wish." 

He could almost see Will's small smile in response.

* * *

Will was not at all surprised that the first thing he and Hannibal did the moment they stepped foot inside Hannibal's house was to practically attack each other. His bag was discarded in the entryway as their bodies collided. The dogs pooled around their legs, greeting him and sniffing. They likely smelled the other dog, as their noses and bodies dragged along his legs. He knew he would smell like them in a matter of seconds, just as he would smell like Hannibal. He let go of the other to bend and pet the dogs, even Winston who came forward almost hesitantly only to press himself against Will. He smiled as the dog sneezed in Hannibal's general direction before moving to sniff his luggage. 

Hannibal offered him a hand to help him stand. 

The other had the same adoring look that he often reserved for Will. The ache within him was gone now, their separation enough to know where he stood concerning Hannibal Lecter. 

"If I saw you every day forever, Will. I would remember this time." 

He swallowed thickly around a lump of emotions before he shuffled closer to the other, through the mass of dogs still at their feet, before he was able to press himself against Hannibal once again. His head was resting against the other's shoulder while he gripped the fabric at the other's hip. Hannibal inhaled deeply, wrapping one arm around Will's waist before pressing his cheek against his hair. He could feel the edge they were standing at right now, the brink of two futures, and which one they headed for felt like a choice he had to make right now. 

Will shifted himself again, looking at the man in his arms. Hannibal watched him in return, searching his eyes for the answer to a question that Will didn't quite know. But whatever answer Hannibal wanted, he seemed to have found it as the distance between them closed, lips finding the other's. Whatever was left the ache within him was gone as he weaved his fingers into the air at the back of Hannibal's head. Hannibal let out a small breath as he pulled Will closer. What a strange feeling to feel so complete just like this. 

After a moment, Hannibal pulled away and shifted back. He was letting Will choose where they went next. The kitchen for food or the bedroom to satiate a different kind of hunger. 

"Before we do anything," Will said quietly. "I have to know something." Hannibal waited patiently for him to ask. "How much more damage are we going to do to each other?" 

One of the things he had remembered in his time apart from Hannibal was the reason why he had felt so betrayed in the first place. He wasn't the person he was before because Hannibal had forced his way into his mind, made him lose his sense of self and reality. He wasn't the same person, because the other had used rather unorthodox methods to pull the darkness within him out into the light. He accepted his darkness now, as much as he had hated it before. But he couldn't continue like this if he and Hannibal were constantly going to be running circles around each other. If all they continued to do was damage, they would destroy each other. But he didn't want them to tear each other apart. 

At least not in that way.

"I think we've done enough damage. Now is the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking." 

"What if I want something else to keep me from thinking?"

Hannibal's eyes flashed before he raised his hand, offering it to Will. "All you'd need to do is ask." 

He reached for Hannibal's hand, grasping it in his own, before walking ahead of him and pulling him along toward the bedroom. "What if I want to show you?" 

Hannibal followed him toward the bedroom without further coaxing. The door shut behind them, keeping the dogs elsewhere in the house and the two of them alone in the room. 

He turned as Hannibal neared him, their lips finding each other's. His hands smoothed over Hannibal's suit jacket before tugging at it slightly, pulling it off him. The jacket was discarded, though carefully before they were back at each other again. Though it was much softer and slower than most other times they had indulged in this aspect of their relationship, whatever their relationship was now. 

"I knew I should have made dinner before you arrived," Hannibal murmured against his lips. "You are quite distracting."

"You say as you're unbuttoning my shirt." 

"Distracting," Hannibal repeated. "Though welcome." 

Hannibal's lips moved to his neck as they both reached the bottom of each other's shirts, discarding them less carefully than the jacket had been. The rest of the clothes were next before they shuffled back toward the bed. Hannibal's hands were worshipful as they ran down his body, as though he were touching him for the first time. They were on the bed after a moment, before Hannibal's mouth began exploring. He kissed down his arms, over his chest, down his abdomen, then down one leg and back up the other. Will was shaking by the time Hannibal returned to his mouth feeling so thoroughly explored and accepted. 

He lifted his hand, wanting to run his fingers over Hannibal's cheekbones when his hand was caught by Hannibal's. He didn't think Hannibal was aiming to capture his hand, only to move from his hip to his face which he so enjoyed cupping. Will felt a smile tug at his lips as their hands adjusted from the awkward tangle they were to lace their fingers together. Hannibal's lips also curved into a smile, one of the few genuine wide smiles he had ever seen the man offer — the first being during their first official appointment — and he was entranced. Their shared smiles dissolved into light laughter before their lips met again, still slightly curved upward.

He had never known someone with who he could be as open as he could with Hannibal. And Hannibal's mask was gone, shed like his clothes on the floor. He used his free hand to push back some of the hair that had fallen into Hannibal's face. The other turned, pressing a kiss against his palm. Will studied him, watching him closely. The mask was gone, the pretenses were thrown away. Whatever haunted the darkness of Hannibal's mind was at bay for a moment. 

"What are you thinking?" Hannibal asked quietly as he moved back to kiss Will again.

"I see you," He whispered.

* * *

Hannibal was all too aware that he had a heart right now, as it clenched in his chest at Will's words. 

Wasn't that all he had ever wanted? To be seen? To be known? And to be seen by Will, what a gift. The only thing he knew he wanted more than to be seen and to be known so well, was the man who saw him. He wanted Will and he would always want Will. Only a few days separation had been terrible for him, but it was made worse knowing that Will would leave his grasp again tomorrow and again after that. Just like when Will was in BSCHI, and he would find himself with an empty office at Will's appointment time, he had found himself returning home to an empty house that didn't feel like home anymore. He knew that Will had seen him as a safe place once, and now likely again. But he had never thought that he would think of a person as his home. 

He was home now.

While their entanglements had always meant so much to him, from the very first moment he was allowed to touch Will in such an intimate way, it meant even more now. He had seen the other's final forgiveness and the willingness to move on. He didn't want them to tear each other apart. He wanted them together. And Hannibal wanted that too. 

He was careful as always when it came to readying Will, something he was never as concerned about when it came to himself, before he pushed forward, burying himself in Will's body. Will groaned, scrambling for him to pull him closer. He went wherever Will directed him. He'd give the other the moon if he asked. But right now all Will seemed to want was to press closer, burying his face in Hannibal's neck. He cupped the back of the other's head, as he angled his thrusts, aiming for Will's prostate. 

Will's teeth sunk into the spot where his neck met his shoulder, sucking lightly. They both had a desire to mark each other, to see the other possessed by them. It was as much a part of their internal animal instincts as it was the other more monstrous instincts within them. He longed to mark the other in a way the world could see, leaving a mark on his neck or maybe something all the more intimate. Their bodies rocked together for a second before the other let him go, turning his head to claim another kiss. 

He aimed a particularly rough thrust at Will's prostate, enjoying the way the other let out a noise somewhere between a cry and a moan. 

Hannibal pulled back to look at him more, memorizing the way the edges of his eyes crinkled in pleasure, the way his lips parted, the way his curls fell on his forehead. What a beautiful being, a god really, Hannibal had managed to ensnare. He wanted him, wanted to possess him in every way. Just as he wished this beautiful creature would possess him in every way. 

He pulled them upward, letting Will adjust on his lap before the two of them were moving again. Will's hips met his every thrust, the two of them settling into a comfortable rhythm. He gazed up into Will's face just above his own, admiring his every feature and the way their bodies fit together so perfectly. The other shifted, pressing his forehead against Hannibal's. When they fell back again, Hannibal was on his back and Will above him. 

He was transfixed. 

He could see the roll of Will's muscles, the way his body moved, the way his hips shifted as he raised and lowered himself on Hannibal's cock. He could see the way his kiss swollen lips pouted just slightly and the way his throat bobbed with every swallow. He could see the way his curls shifted just slightly and the way his abdomen rolled with every movement. 

He never had someone who he wanted to love so deeply. So much that it threatened to consume them both. He would let them be consumed as long as he had Will with it. 

"Come here," He whispered and Will obeyed immediately. 

His body was angled awkwardly as he leaned down, pressing his cheek against Hannibal's shoulder. He would keep him for eternity.

He wrapped his hand around the other's cock, moving in time with his thrusts and Will's hips. More and more moans left Will's lips. He managed to maneuver the other for another kiss, swallowing every moan Will offered. 

"Hannibal," Will whispered and his heart stopped. The other rarely ever said his first name. At least not to him. Frederick Chilton had confirmed that Will spoke about him — _Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal_ — but never had Will granted him the gift of hearing his name fall from his lips. "Hannibal, please." 

He wasn't completely certain what the other was asking for, mostly because he was still lost in the euphoria of hearing his name, but he couldn't deny Will anything. He'd offer his heart on a plate.

Will was clinging to him when he came, shaking and clenching, his moans no longer audible. Hannibal came only seconds later, so incredibly wrapped in Will that his pleasure was enough to bring Hannibal his own. 

The other didn't bother moving off him as they came down from their respective orgasms. He instead shifted himself so he was half on Hannibal and half next to him to rest his head on the pillow. 

Will's eyes opened eventually, starling ocean-blue finding his.

Amazing.

"I told you I had something for you," He forced himself to say. "Would you like to see the first one?" 

Will nodded and with some shuffling, he was able to pull the small box out of his bedside table. It was probably too soon, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now. He had been far too busy, and lonely, over the last few days to care. He had Will again, that terrible hunger within finally satiated. He could find nourishment at the very sight of Will Graham and he never wanted to let that go. 

Will shifted, resting his head on Hannibal's chest to look at the box he had in his hand. Hannibal shifted as well so he could murmur into the other's hair. 

"Marry me?"


	11. Chapter 11

Hannibal's hips ached where the edge of the desk jutted into them. He let out a low groan as the hand that was twined with his flexed and squeezed. 

He knew Will was frustrated from the moment the other burst through the door to his office. Will's eyes were hard and his face twisted in an emotion that immediately vanished the moment he saw Hannibal. He was behind his desk, finishing his notes on his lunch break when Will appeared. The other stalked through the room until he was next to Hannibal, grasping his face and pressing a harsh kiss against his lips. The metal that pressed against his face was warm, which was odd for such a cold day. Likely the ring had been in Will's pocket until he was on his way to Hannibal's office. He didn't mind actually, knowing that Will couldn't exactly go around flaunting a relationship when he was supposed to be working on trapping Hannibal, much less a relationship with Hannibal. The fact that Will had been mindful enough to put the ring back on was enough to make Hannibal's newly found heart backflip.

He barely managed to stand before Will was pushing against him more, as though he were trying to bury himself within Hannibal. And perhaps that was true. It certainly partially happened. 

Will was behind him now, his lips pressed against Hannibal's shoulder while he aimed thrust after thrust at his prostate. Their left hands were tangled together, Will's hand over his so Hannibal could see the silver band glint in the daylight. Will's other hand was wrapped around his waist while Hannibal balanced himself with his other hand pressed against the desk. Hannibal's hips had rocked into the desk over and over, enough that he would probably have bruises there later. But he didn't quite care. 

Will, after a few moments, began peppering kisses along the length of his shoulder, over his spine, and down along the other shoulder. He shivered at the action, just before Will's teeth sunk into his shoulder. He groaned loudly reaching behind him with his free hand to pull the other against him more. Will's thrusts became brutal, almost like the thrusts Hannibal often subjected him to, before he pulled free from Hannibal's body completely. He was being turned around, lips meeting along the way. 

Hannibal had been with men, and women, before. But never would he have let any of them bend him over his own desk as Will did. Like he wanted Will to do. 

Will grasped the back of his head as they kissed, his fingers twisting in Hannibal's hair. 

The other began pulling him through the office away from their mess of discarded clothes and over toward the couch. It was rarely used, except for company at odd times, and Hannibal had absolutely no qualms about using it now. They were on the couch in seconds, Will pressing back into him and their lips meeting once again. One of Will's hands was behind his head while the other was clutching his thigh. Their bodies were moving in tandem, Hannibal shifting his hips to meet every one of Will's thrusts. The other claimed his mouth for kiss after kiss, an action that was becoming more desperate by the second. 

Will movements were becoming less coordinated as he let go of the back of Hannibal's head to wrap his hand around Hannibal's cock. Hannibal moaned, letting his head fall back as Will drove them both toward the edge. And that just wouldn't do. Not yet. 

Hannibal reached for the other, stilling his movements. Will's eyes had been clouded with lust for the last few minutes, only acting no longer thinking. As beautiful as that was, he wanted Will with him when they found their pleasure. 

Will's brilliant ocean eyes snapped to his after a moment, and then they were moving. The two of them barely fit on the couch together as they shifted onto their sides, clinging to each other to keep them from falling off the side. He could feel the other's eyes on him as he shifted his body, settling onto Will's cock once more. 

Whatever frustration the other had before was gone as he angled his hips to push into Hannibal again. His eyes were focused on Hannibal's face as he continued with a series of slow thrusts that grazed Hannibal's prostate over and over. He was surprised to find himself practically shaking as he clung to the other, the two of them reaching their edge and then falling over it after another few minutes. 

Will's eyes slid shut as he lied in Hannibal's arms, practically purring. It was far from the chaotic, frustrated energy that the other had when he barged into the room. 

Hannibal let his hand drag through Will's sweaty curls while they lie, tangled together. "As much as I enjoyed that, would you like to tell me what had you so frustrated?"

"I have been officially dismissed as a consultant, pending investigation into Randall Tier's death." 

"That's not what bothered you enough that you needed sexual relief to calm yourself." 

Will huffed out a laugh. "No." Hannibal felt the other's lips press against his clavicle. "Jack thinks this would be a good opportunity to try to lure you further." He sighed, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on Hannibal's skin. "I keep thinking that maybe you should give him what he wants." 

"Give him the Chesapeake Ripper?" 

"Peace," Will said instead. 

"That can only end in one of two ways." Hannibal's mind brought forth the idea that Will had been playing the long con all along. That this intimacy, Will's forgiveness, were all ploys to drag him closer and lure him into a trap. 

"I know." The other's grip tightened on him. After a moment, Will sighed. "We could run." 

Whatever negative thoughts Hannibal had were immediately ejected from his mind at that. 

"Not yet, of course." Will continued and Hannibal could practically hear his thoughts churning in his mind. "My dad's coming tomorrow. I'll have to take care of the dogs." The other let out a shallow breath. "I want to bring Winston." 

"Of course," Hannibal answered, continuing to run his hand through the other's curls. "We can talk more later. Come over, tonight." Will shifted himself to look into Hannibal's eyes. "I still have my other gift to give you."

* * *

Jack waited in the private room at BSCHI, waiting for the other occupant of the room to be brought in. Sometimes the other occupant was already there when he arrived, sometimes they were brought in after. If they were meeting in what Jack mentally dubbed the cages, the other person would have been there first. He was standing by the window, looking through the bars and frosted glass, but not seeing anything on the outside. The conversations from earlier in the day still ran through his mind as he waited. 

He could still see the flash of anger in Will's eyes as he suggested upping the ante on their bid to capture Lecter. He could still see the way Will's fingers twitched on his left hand, as though he were feeling for a ring that wasn't there. Jack did the something sometimes, feeling for the physical reminder of his connection to Bella. Mostly, he remembered the tense way Will had left the building and the conversation with Zeller after Will's back vanished through the doors.

_"Does he seem off to you?" Zeller asked, looking at the place Will once occupied and the back to Jack. "I mean more than normal."_

_Jack refrained from answering, but did catch the eyes of Alana Bloom. She had bags under her bright blue eyes, looking tired and worn in a way Jack had only seen on Will. Alana had avoided most people these days, only perking up slightly when news of Freddie Lounds's disappearance reached the two of them while she was consulting on a case. There were some cases that Jack didn't need to pull Will in for, especially not when he was trying to lure bigger fish. It didn't take long for Alana to slip away and when Jack neared, she overheard her conversation with Hannibal._

_Alana looked at him for a moment before she followed the same path that Will had taken, leading her from the building._

Will's car was long gone from the parking lot by the time Jack decided on this particular venture. What exactly drove him to BSCHI, he didn't realize until he was in the parking lot. There were very few people he could talk to about the things going on. 

He heard the door open and he turned just in time to see Frederick Chilton being led into the room. The guards were incredibly gentle with Chilton as they lowered him into the chair, careful not to jostle him too much. 

Chilton's cheek hung a little lower than it used to, revealing the lower part of the white of his eye. There was a noticeable divot in his face from where the bullet had entered. He was incredibly lucky that Miriam Lass didn't give him brain damage and that he was well enough to sit in BSCHI awaiting a trial he didn't deserve. 

"I wasn't expecting to find you here," Chilton greeted, shifting in his likely uncomfortable seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure." 

"I see they're treating you well." 

"I used to pay their salaries and could again once the charges against me are dropped." Chilton's eyes unnervingly found his. "Or are you here to tell me I will be standing trial for crimes I did not commit." 

"You were convinced Will Graham was a psychopath. So much that you testified against him for crimes he did not commit." Jack sat in the chair across from the former head of BSCHI. "And yet you believed him when he said Hannibal was the Ripper, so much that you refused to eat at his dinner party." 

Chilton chuckled lowly. "I thought perhaps I would be Hannibal's next meal. Instead he had me devoured by the system, set to fall for his crimes." 

"The Ripper took Gideon right out from under your nose," Jack said. "He was found half-eaten in your guest room. You had a similar medical background to him, the surgical skills available." Jack ignored the facts that Freddie Lounds had pitched to him not long after Chilton's arrest, stating that his colleagues all knew he was terrible at being a surgeon and thus switched to psychiatry. "Evidence enough that a jury will find you guilty." 

"I made the same mistake thinking that a surgical background automatically led to the Ripper." He raised his hands slightly, the handcuffs linking him to the table rattling with the movement. "You can see where that got the two of us." 

"Why did you believe Will?" 

"He was very convincing," Chilton answered, sitting back with a smirk on his face. "It started to make sense after a little while. The jokes, the background. We all chalked it up to Hannibal being eccentric. But your bloodhound pointed in the right direction." The man cocked his head after a moment. "Are you starting to doubt the direction he pointed in?" When Jack didn't answer, Chilton's eyes lit up with a sick amusement. "You're not doubting the direction that Will pointed you in when it came to the Ripper. You're doubting Will." 

Jack shifted slightly in his chair. 

"You sent Will after Hannibal, didn't you?" Chilton watched him closely. "And now you think your bloodhound had gotten a taste for blood." Chilton laughed then, sitting back again in his chair nonchalantly. "Hannibal Lecter is the perfect monster. So much, that I wouldn't even classify him as insane. A jury would, though." Chilton shrugged half-heartedly. "All Will ever talked about was Hannibal with anyone who would listen. You, Alana, the guards, even Matthew Brown whose cell is now a few down from mine. Even Hannibal himself." Chilton looked toward the window for a moment, pausing. Jack couldn't see where the two trains of thought connected before Chilton turned to look back at him, his eyes gleaming with the same smug arrogance he often wore around him. "I wouldn't want to find myself between them." He raised his hands again, handcuffs clinking. "Luckily I won't. But you-"

Chilton shrugged again. 

Jack left feeling less trusting of Will than when he entered. 


	12. Chapter 12

Somehow, Hannibal managed to beat him to his house. It wasn't as though he had much to do since he no longer had either of his jobs. He wasn't hurting for money and if he needed to he could always repair boats again. So, Will spent most of the afternoon cleaning up his house for his father's arrival and readying a spare bedroom for him to sleep in. He doubted his father would spend money on a motel when he had better options, and Will didn't mind. He doubted he would be returning home that night, though, so he made certain the dogs were taken care of before he left for the hour-long drive back to Baltimore. 

Hannibal opened the door when he reached the top step, moving aside so Will could enter. The other took his coat, draping it next to his own before wrapping his arms around Will's waist and pressing their bodies close together. Will sighed and leaned back into the other. He didn't know when in the past Hannibal had become his safe place, but he certainly wasn't fighting it. Hannibal tucked his face into his neck, inhaling deeply. 

Will turned in the circle of Hannibal's arms until they were face to face. He noted the adoring look the other offered, the way his eyes stared at him as though the pupils would suddenly become hearts from a cartoon. Hannibal's grip tightened on him when they were face to face, his hands fisting in the back of Will's shirt. He couldn't help but wonder if Hannibal also found his safe place in Will, as he had in the other. His hands moved up the other's arms, leaving one cupping his bicep and the other fisted in the clothing at his neck. 

"Would you run, if I asked you?" He asked quietly. The question had been running around his mind since he suggested it earlier and now he found he needed an answer. 

"Yes." Hannibal's answer was simple and earnest. Will could see it in his eyes.

"Why?"

"To protect you." 

_Why? Why, Hannibal?_ There was something Will needed to hear, but he couldn't force himself to ask for it. 

"Why?" He asked again. "You didn't run when I accused you. Or when I came in here with a gun. You didn't run when I told you about Jack and what I had been helping with. Why would you run now?" 

He was certain he'd tear the fabric of the shirt that was on the neck of Hannibal's shirt with how tightly he was gripping it. Hannibal, in turn, pulled him closer so their bodies were touching. How easily they fit together. How easily their bodies molded to each other's. How easily this had come to feel like home, wrapped in the circle of Hannibal's arms. The same arms that had killed who knows how many with ease. Why, oh why, was this man, this beautiful dangerous man, so willing to drop the life he had cultivated and manipulated to keep? Why was he so willing to leave everything, his comfort, the home he had made; for Will?

_Why do you want to protect me, Hannibal?_

"It's simple, Will." Hannibal's voice was low, almost breathless. "I love you." 

Will broke.

He closed what little distance was between them, burying his face in Hannibal's neck and gripping him tightly. He rarely sought comfort in others, though he had never resisted when it came to Hannibal. Even still, it was easier for him to allow Hannibal to offer it rather than ask for it himself. But this was what he needed. Someone who saw him so completely, who knew him so well, who he knew so well, and they could accept each other. This wasn't just love. This was so much more. This was an ache within him that was satisfied by the mere presence of the other. This was a hunger within Hannibal that was filled by him.

What a beautiful thing they had made in each other. 

Hannibal ran a soothing hand down his back. Will didn't even realize he was crying until then. 

He knew those words weren't said lightly by the other. Though he might use other's emotions to manipulate them, he wouldn't stoop low enough to say something like that if he didn't mean it. So, when those words, the very words Will had been craving to hear spill from familiar lips finally came, he knew they were meant. He had known that Hannibal loved him. And, while it was still new to him, he loved Hannibal in return. 

Betrayal. Forgiveness. Savior. Saved.

They were both the betrayer and the forgiver. But Will was not saved nor was he the savior. He had fallen, in more ways than one, and in the wake of the darkness he had kept at bay and so wanted to succumb to for himself, for Hannibal, he found such a beautiful prize. They were doomed, fallen, damned. They were conjoined, entwined, wrapped so tightly that love between them was deadly. It would kill them, one way or another. Be it now from the enemies they had cultivated, some unwittingly; or in years when old age claimed one and heartbreak the other. Monsters and men, it made no difference. 

"I love you, Hannibal." He whispered, forcing himself to say the words that were trapped by emotions in his throat. 

The other let out a breath before Will felt him press his face into his shoulder. They were buried in each other, hiding and revealing what only they could to each other, rather than the world. 

He didn't know how long they stood there, how long he tried to drag Hannibal into the stream that he found his peace in, how long Hannibal tried to drag him into the house he made from all the assorted pieces of his life. 

He only knew time again when he heard Hannibal's voice rumble in his ear.

"Would you like to see what else I have for you?"

* * *

Will was easy to maneuver through the house until they were standing at the edge of his basement. He had been waiting to drag Will here for days, to show him the other gift that he had to offer. He had already given Will everything else, everything he was belonged to Will Graham at this point. The other followed him willingly down the stairs and into the cold darkness below. Hannibal flipped on the switch at the bottom of the stairs, illuminating the room. Will had been down here once before, and this time wasn't much different. There was still something waiting for him down here this time, a gift that Hannibal brought like a cat with its kill rather than Will. 

The other took a moment to notice the vibrant red hair in the middle of the room. 

Freddie Lounds was, in fact, still alive and right where Hannibal left her, tied to a chair and awaiting whatever Will wanted to do with her. He had taken Freddie went it was opportune, when the blame couldn't be shifted back onto Will. That didn't mean that he had wanted her to die just quite yet. As much as he would have loved to kill her, just from her rudeness alone, this pig belonged to someone else. 

Will watched her for a moment, as Freddie's eyes adjusted to the light. The moment she finally saw him, she began squirming, though it wasn't fear in her eyes. She was hopeful. Hopeful that Will would set her free, that she would live. 

Hannibal turned to leave, to let Will do what he wanted without an audience, but Will's hand caught his wrist and squeezed lightly. He wanted him to stay, and so he did. He retreated to the bottom of the stairs, watching the scene before him unfold. 

There were tools, knives and a bone saw, off to one side of the room. The freezer was on the other side, with plastic curtains to contain the blood splatter that inevitably came with taking apart a body. 

Will moved toward the knives, picking up one and then walking back toward Freddie. It would be incredibly cut and dry to kill her while she was still tied to a chair, but Hannibal wouldn't exactly blame him for doing so. Instead, however, Will first hooked his finger in the gag that kept Freddie from spewing the same rude nonsense she always did and pulled it free. Freddie flexed her jaw, her eyes staring over Will's shoulder at Hannibal. She thought that Will was freeing her, and that was certainly what it looked like. He knelt, then, cutting the restraints around Freddie's feet and then setting free her hands. 

Hannibal was endlessly curious as he watched the beautiful predator across the room sit back on one heel, looking at Freddie as she untied the gag that was now around her neck.

"Thank you," She whispered, looking back up at Hannibal as she did. "I-"

He waited patiently to see what she would say while Will stayed as still as a statue in front of her. 

"You're not who I thought you were." She looked down at Will, pleading with her eyes. "Get me out of here and I'll never write anything about you again. Please." Her eyes flicked back up to Hannibal's. "I want to live."

"You called me insane." 

"I told you I could undo that. And I can." While there was terror in Freddie's eyes, there was none in her voice. 

Will had confided in him once that Freddie had called not only him a psychopath, but herself as well as Jack and Alana. Perhaps then her fear wasn't real, but her survival instinct certainly would be. He watched as Freddie looked down at Will once again. 

"You're not a killer," She pleaded. "Get me out of here and you'll never see me again."

He couldn't help but wonder if Will was playing with his food. This wasn't the same Will Graham who had confessed, as though it hurt him to do so, that he liked killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. This was the Will that had broken into his house, snuck into his kitchen, and confronted him with a gun in hand. This was the Will who had beat a man and then snapped his neck, only to drag the body to Hannibal. This was the man who knew that once he started, he didn't want to stop. He liked killing. He liked the power. 

Will cocked his head at Freddie's pleas, watching her. After a moment, he set down the knife in his hand, resting it on the floor. If Freddie were smart, she would pick it up. But it appeared she was a little too comfortable. She stood, moving around Will, seeming to think she would be free. Only to find Hannibal blocking her exit, and Will didn't tell him to move. She paused in her steps, looking back at Will who finally stood behind her. 

"I know you're afraid," Will said quietly. "But you only have to be afraid for a moment longer." 

Freddie ran. Not toward Hannibal, which was probably smart, but instead toward the other end of the basement, trying to find a way out. There wasn't one, of course. The only way out was through Will and Hannibal both. 

Hannibal was utterly entranced. 

Will was calm as he stalked through the room, following Freddie's frantic noises to try to find an escape. The back of the basement was darker, so Hannibal could only see an outline of the two of them. Freddie's was frantic, her hair flying as she whipped her head back and forth, trying to find an exit. But Will was calm, nearly gliding through the dark like he belonged there, moving among the shadows. 

Hannibal wasn't quite sure the emotion that was building in him as he watched. He longed to join, to feel the two of them moving side by side. He could feel himself tensing, as though his body was responding to Will's movements across the room. It was intoxicating to watch, as much as he longed to join. 

He was surprised, a little, that Will had gone along so easily with what Hannibal offered. It had taken a lot, including his near death, to bring Will to the point that he was so comfortable with killing that he would do it without Hannibal even having to suggest it. 

And what a magnificent thing he was. 

Freddie fought back, swinging wildly for Will when he neared her. Hannibal had to admit it was admirable. Fighting until the end. But even from here, he could see the fear. Will moved like a well-honed predator, pinning Freddie first with his hand and then his body when she proved adept at escape. He could see the way Freddie's hair shifted, likely from Will's hand fisting in it. He had felt those same hands in his own hair. He doubted it felt anywhere near as good for Freddie, and he was glad for it. 

There wasn't much more of a struggle as Will seemed to grow tired of his game. Freddie moved toward Hannibal, as though she were about to take her chances with him, when Will's hands wrapped around her, grasping her throat and snapping her neck with a satisfying pop. 

Hannibal could feel Will's eyes from the shadows and god was he aroused.

* * *

"There's something you and Will aren't telling me." Alana was standing on the other side of his desk, looking as though she were about ready to explode. Her bright blue eyes were filled to the brim with emotion. 

Jack didn't bother answering though. There was nothing he could say that would put Alana on his side. 

"You're trying to trap Hannibal." She said after a minute, her voice blunt. Jack still didn't answer. "How can you be sure he isn't trying to trap you?" She was leaning on the edge of the desk her hands splayed out in front of her, ready to flex them and potentially throw a punch. He might let her. 

"Anything I say will mean nothing to you." He let the reason, the relationship between Alana and Hannibal, remain unsaid. 

She sighed, pushing off the table. "Hannibal and I aren't together anymore." Her voice was quiet as she said it. 

"Why not?" Jack asked before he could stop himself. Honestly, some part of him was relieved to have Alana away from Hannibal. 

"He's in love with someone else," She answered. "I was just a placeholder." 

Part of Jack ached to see someone who he considered a friend left seemingly heartlessly even if he was relieved that it happened. Another part of him was worried though. Who had caught Hannibal's attention enough that he would leave Alana for them? Unfortunately, the person his mind supplied was less than ideal. 

"How long?" He asked softly.

"A couple of weeks," She answered. 

Jack knew exactly what happened a "couple of weeks" ago. Will had killed Randall Tier and then dragged him to Hannibal's house, in hopes of continuing to lure the man in. 

Had he been duped this whole time? Had Will's supposed revenge plot, the plan to lure and trap Hannibal, been a lie the whole time? Had he left BSCHI with the prospect of luring Hannibal but for himself? The doubts about Will kept appearing and wouldn't leave his mind ever since the day he left Frederick Chilton in BSCHI. And there was no way around it. They kept screaming in the back of his mind, demanding he pay attention to them. His gut was not often wrong, and it was saying there was something left to be desired when it came to the relationship between Will and Hannibal. 

Was the person who replaced Alana at Hannibal's side the same person Jack had sent to lure the man in the first place?

Was Will Graham lost?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all say you wanted sex in this chapter? I think you all said you wanted sex...

Jack and Alana walked from the building and into the darkness of the night. Alana had been quiet since she confessed that she and Hannibal were no longer together. The rest, mostly Price and Zeller, had already left for the day and Jack wasn't comfortable letting Alana walk into the night alone. Especially not now. He didn't think Hannibal would go after Alana, but he wasn't going to take his chances. If Hannibal were to come for Alana now, he'd have to go through Jack and he wasn't exactly easy to take down. But the walk to the parking lot and subsequently her car was devoid of other people save for the two of them. 

He stopped just short of Alana's car, watching her move toward the driver's side door. 

"Can I ask you something?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," She answered. 

"You and Hannibal were broken up when you called him about Freddie Lounds." He started. Alana blinked at him but didn't say anything, waiting for the question. "Why did you call him?"

She sighed slightly, staring at the hood of her car before turning back to Jack. "I've known Hannibal for a long time. He was my mentor and my friend long before we ever started a relationship. And I may doubt him, but some part of me felt like I owed him something. Just like part of me feels like I owe Will something." 

"Why would you owe Will?" 

"He tried to warn me." 

Part of Jack wondered if Will's warning was him trying to claim Hannibal for himself, but a larger part of him thought that wasn't the case. Will did truly care about Alana, in his own way. He doubted that he would ever willingly and knowingly hurt her. Jack nodded to Alana by way of response before watching her enter her car and, a moment later, drive away. He stood there for a moment longer, looking at the space she once occupied and wondering about the space Will once occupied. Alana had told him once that Will was playing a game and he wasn't afraid anymore. Was his lack of fear what drove him to Hannibal?

Part of him couldn't help but feel guilty. 

If there was a monster made of Will Graham, it was Alana and Jack who drove him to his maker, to begin with. Hannibal, the proverbial Dr. Frankenstein and Will Graham, his monster. He had been trying to protect Will's headspace by sending him to Hannibal. Only Hannibal turned out to be the one person who turned his headspace upside down. Jack heard the tapes from Chilton's sessions with Will and the first of them where Will had stated he remembered a flashing light in Hannibal's office. It wasn't enough to convict Hannibal of anything. It wasn't even enough to have him disbarred. It was testimony, a private session with a therapist, from a man who at the time had been accused of four murders. 

In hindsight, Jack found it strange that they never found Abigail Hobbs's body.

* * *

Dinner was a heated affair. 

Will's eyes hadn't left him once. Not as they were cooking, not as they were eating, and not as they were cleaning up. He could feel the weight of that ocean gaze on him at all times as though Hannibal had been the one who killed and Will the aroused spectator. Needless to say, he was not at all surprised that when he turned around after putting away the last dish, he found Will behind him, stalking him similarly to how he stalked Freddie Lounds only hours earlier. Strangely, he felt the need to hide as he watched Will near him slowly. The other's movements were loose and almost playful as he neared him, watching his reactions the whole time. 

This was the predator Hannibal had tried so hard to pull from its cage. This was the darkness that was like his own. This was the man who could stand in the darkness next to him, be consumed by the same hunger, and come out the other side. 

Hannibal could still see the streaks from the other's earlier tears where the other had barely bothered to wipe them away. He had almost wanted to drag his tongue over the other's cheeks, to taste the salt of his tears and the heat of his skin, knowing that it wasn't caused by sadness but rather joy. 

Will was always aroused by a kill, it seemed. Or at least the two times Hannibal had seen him after one. Maybe it was the fact that he came to Hannibal afterward when his emotions were running high and adrenaline coursing through his veins. Maybe it was that he had watched this time. Maybe it was just that they were so similar that a kill by one's hands felt like a kill by the other's and that was an arousing thought all on its own. It had been after a kill that they began this whole venture in the first place, the more physical and intimate aspect of their relationship. He supposed Will wasn't the only one with a debt to Randall Tier. Though Will had paid his debt.

Perhaps Hannibal could pay his by continuing to worship the man who Tier's death had driven into his arms. 

Just as the first time they started down this path, Will moved Hannibal until he was backed into something, this time the refrigerator. Their lips met harshly as Will wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing their bodies together. Hannibal moved one of his hands into the other's hair and the other against his lower back. Will was ravenous as he kissed him, his tongue exploring as Hannibal often let his own do. Again, Hannibal was certain he would never grow tired of the taste of Will Graham. 

He pressed against the other, wanting to move them to the bedroom where he could have Will as he intended, to worship the other until the sun came up; but Will seemed to have other plans. There was a low rumble in his throat as he pressed Hannibal back against the refrigerator, his grip on Hannibal's waist tightening as he moved his other hand into his hair. Hannibal was all too familiar with this kind of hunger, with the need to consume the other so much that even an inch of separation was terrible. 

There were a few boundaries that Hannibal was mostly unwilling to cross. One of them was having sex in his kitchen. The kitchen was a sacred place for him. But he would have sex at his own altar if Will wanted it. He'd let the other have him here against the refrigerator if that's what Will needed. He could almost feel the hunger in the other, the aching need that came from being too far apart, even if it was only a few inches for a meal. 

Will moved his attentions to Hannibal's neck while his hands began unbuttoning his suit jacket and then his vest. The other let out a groan of frustration before he pulled back slightly, pupils blown wide, to fist his hands in Hannibal's shirt and tear it open. Buttons flew all over the kitchen, bouncing off metal and then the floor but all Hannibal was focused on was Will's mouth that was now pressed against newly exposed skin. He would have killed anyone else who tried such a thing, but with Will, he was incredibly, achingly aroused. 

The other didn't give him time to react though before he felt Will bend and wrap his hands around the outside of Hannibal's thighs. He barely had time to ready himself before Will was picking him up and wrapping his legs around his waist. Their mouths came back together as Will began to move through the house, moving them from the kitchen to the bedroom. 

He certainly was not expecting this, but he was absolutely thrilled with it. 

They fell onto his bed in a rather terribly graceless heap that was all limbs and teeth. Will was everywhere, tearing at his own clothes as well as Hannibal's until they were somehow finally bared. He doubted his clothes survived the onslaught, but he didn't care. Not when it was Will. 

Will's actions were almost animalistic in nature as he ground against Hannibal. And god it was riling up something much more primal within him. 

The other's hand fisted in his hair, forcing his head to the side before Hannibal felt teeth sink into his neck. He wasn't ashamed to say that he moaned loudly at the action, moving to hold the other's head in place. He would gladly wear a mark from Will, and only Will, and he would wear it proudly. He had the distinct feeling that the other had been holding back during their previous lovemaking sessions, as he was far less gentle now than he was in the past. His movements were coordinated and brutal, the places he touched purposeful and bruising. He was certain he'd have bruises on his hips to match the ones that had formed earlier from Will's attack on him in his office. 

The other didn't seem to want to wait, grasping the lube from the bedside table and shifting Hannibal's legs until he was between them. He was surprised to find that he was a little sore from earlier as Will's finger pushed into him, readying him. The other, despite his earlier harsh advances, was gentle. And that only made Hannibal's monster much more ravenous in return. He barely let the other ready him, pulling him back and only letting Will shifted enough to settle between his thighs before he was attacking the other with the same fervor Will had offered earlier. The other pushed into him, letting him adjust slightly before he pulled back and offered harsh thrust after harsh thrust to meet the general mood of their current entwining.

Will shifted his angle to find Hannibal's prostate and the sound he let out was nothing short of a moan. Will grinned before pressing another harsh kiss against his hips. 

What a beautiful creature was above him right now. What an amazing predator he ensnared. He would never stop marveling at it, at Will. Will was a god, his god, and Hannibal wanted nothing more than to worship at his altar. 

He was lost, so lost, in Will Graham. His limbs felt like they belonged to Will and Will's limbs felt like his own. He could barely tell where each ended. He only knew the feel of Will's body and the heat of his mouth. He only knew the feel of curls between his fingers and Will between his thighs. 

They were moving in tandem, each thrust of Will's hips met by an equally brutal movement of Hannibal's. His teeth sunk into Will's shoulder, tasting blood and sweat on his tongue and hearing the moan that he drew along with it. 

It was rare that he would become so incoherent during sex. He was always aware especially of himself and his partner. But God himself could have burst into the room right then and Hannibal was too lost in Will to care. He knew Will was equally as lost in him. He could feel it. He could feel it in the way Will's hands ran over his body, the way his lips rarely left his skin, only long enough to travel to his mouth. He could feel it in his less rhythmic movements and the way he clutched him when his hands stopped moving. 

There wasn't a strong enough word to describe what they were experiencing. Joining, entwining, intimacy. It all paled compared to the way they were wrapped in each other. 

He didn't even realize he was on the edge until he fell over it, propelled by a sharp thrust of Will's hips. The other gasped in his ear as his body tensed subconsciously and the other was not far behind him. 

They stilled in the wake of their orgasms, Will's body shaking against his and Hannibal clutching him in return. 

When Will's softening cock pulled from his body, Hannibal was jerked harshly back into reality. 

Will was still shaking, clinging to Hannibal, and refusing to move off him. Hannibal was clinging to him return, the two of them breathing heavily. 

"Stay with me," Hannibal whispered, running his hand through sweat-soaked curls.

"Where else would I go?" 

When they finally drifted off to sleep, he could swear there was a stream running parallel to his mind palace. 


	14. Chapter 14

Will woke to a kiss. And then another. And then another. It was only by the third kiss that he was awake enough to reciprocate. Soft, familiar hair slid between his fingers as he raised his hand to hold Hannibal's head in place for another kiss. These lips, this body, were so familiar to Will it was as though they were his own. And in a way they were. He could see the daylight filtering in through his not yet opened eyelids. Hannibal pressed closer, covering his body. Will accepted his weight easily, feeling a strange sense of comfort at being trapped by the weight of a killer. Will's hand slid lower, over Hannibal's back, and then back up to the top of his head. Except when he reached his destination, his hand was wet. Will's eyes shot open to find that first, Hannibal wasn't kissing him anymore and second, that his hand was drenched in blood. 

Will sat bolt upright, scrambling off the bed and away from the body next to him. He was breathing so heavily, his mind so foggy, that he didn't realize it was still dark out. He was shaking, his hand wet with something, and he could barely breathe. He had somehow moved across the room and under the window. There was barely any light outside, only enough from the moon to see his feet where they were just in front of him with his knees against his chest. 

Suddenly, a light flicked on and someone was next to him. 

Will's heart was pounding in his head, red flashing behind the clicks of his eyelids, so much that it bled into his vision. 

And then there was suddenly Hannibal, watching him from behind wide, amber eyes. 

"Hannibal," He breathed. He couldn't stop himself from lunging for the other man, grasping him. 

"Will," Hannibal's voice was a comfort, soothing in the terror of his mind. He had thought, he had worried, he had dreamt, that Hannibal was dead at his hand. 

He had been so lost the night before, lost to the high of a kill, lost to the addiction that was Hannibal, that he had let himself for a moment drop his guard. He had let his mask down, really down, for a moment, to lose himself in the person he loved. And his mind reminded him why he couldn't do that. Why he had caged apart of himself so thoroughly. Why he could never let anyone in, let them see the real him. Why the ring on his finger was a terrible idea. 

And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt now, that he truly loved Hannibal Lecter. 

If now, his greatest fear had shifted from losing himself and his mind to Hannibal's death at his hand, he knew who he wanted to belong to. He knew why he lunged for Hannibal, and why he buried himself in the other's body now, just as he had the night before. 

Killing Hannibal would be like killing a part of himself and caging him would be even worse. Knowing that Hannibal was alive and there but not his was like ripping out his beating heart. 

He was straddling Hannibal's lap, their lips pressed together while tears ran down his cheeks. Their bodies rocked together as Hannibal clung to him with equal fervor, his grip as tight as Will's. If Hannibal understood why Will was upset, or if he didn't, he wasn't fighting him. Hannibal met his every movement and after a moment, a thumb moved across his cheek, wiping away a tear. 

"You were calling out my name," Hannibal whispered. 

"I dreamt I killed you." 

"Maybe you have," Hannibal answered. "Maybe the Hannibal Lecter of the past is dead and gone at your hand. Maybe you've changed me as I've changed you." The other tucked Will against him, letting Will bury his face in his neck while he stroked a hand over his back. "We talked about that which haunts us once. You are what haunts the halls of your mind. But my ghost has another name." Will listened, burying himself in Hannibal as he did. 

"Her name was Mischa. She was my sister. I was a father to her in the only way I could be. We were children." Hannibal's grip on him tightened as though Will himself could fight away the demons of his mind. 

"What happened?" He whispered.

He could almost hear Hannibal's automatic "I happened" but that wasn't the response he was given. 

"They happened." 

Will could feel himself sinking into Hannibal's mind, reliving the story as the other told him. 

"They were Soviet deserters. After my parents died, my family's home was converted into a Soviet orphanage. My sister and I were on our own. My uncle wouldn't find me for some years. And in that time we were captured. Mischa was young and weak. They killed her." 

Will could see the cold night, feel the chill of the air, and see the heat of breath. He could see the fire flickering against the dark night, sparks flying upward to find the stars. He could see a young Hannibal and the soldiers which surrounded him. He could hear their wicked laughter, their cruel eyes. He could hear a language he couldn't understand, but he knew enough of cruel men to know taunting when he heard it. He could feel his hair standing on end from low voices, chattering between themselves as something burned. 

Or rather, someone.

"They ate her." 

And they fed her to Hannibal. 

Will's grip tightened on the other. 

"I escaped. I couldn't talk, I could barely think. I couldn't hold down more than soup, for a while." Hannibal turned his head, burying in Will's neck just as Will was buried in Hannibal's. "My uncle found me. Adopted me. He died shortly thereafter." 

Will could see, as though he lived it himself, everything that happened from there. 

"You found them," He said softly. Though found was likely too light a word for what Hannibal did. Hunted, tracked, slaughtered. He pushed away his humanity, burying it within himself as he buried those who took Mischa. 

"Most of them," Hannibal whispered. "There's still one alive." 

"Where is he?" 

"The place I can never go." _Home._

Or well, Hannibal's first home. Will had a strange feeling that Hannibal's home now was right here, wrapped in his arms. 

_Maybe you've changed me as I've changed you._

Hannibal had buried his humanity for Mischa, in avenging her. He had dug it up for Will. Hannibal had uncovered Will's monster, while Will dug for his humanity. And there they were, monster and man, wrapped in one another. Their safe places. Their home. 

"That's why you wanted to protect Abigail," Will said suddenly. 

Hannibal was silent for a moment. "She reminds me of her." 

Will shifted one of his hands from where it was clutching Hannibal's back and brought it between them, pressing against where Hannibal's heart was. A heart he was all too certain existed, especially when he felt a tear fall on his shoulder. He pulled back, letting their foreheads press together while his other hand wiped the tears off Hannibal's cheek. What a rare moment of vulnerability that was becoming more frequent between them. 

"Thank you for telling me." 

Will felt like he had been flayed alive with the vulnerability between them and the pain in Hannibal's eyes when they finally opened, wet with unshed tears. Hannibal watched him for a second more before it seemed like realization dawned in the depths of his eyes. Will watched as the other focused more on him and then tightened his grip on him, as though he was surprised to find Will still there. And perhaps he was. He didn't think anyone could see the darkness, the true darkness and the pain that came with it, and would want to stay. 

Hannibal had repressed his darkness once, Will could see that. For Mischa. Like Will, his darkness wasn't initially borne of trauma. It was always there and buried until something brought it out. Hannibal's was brought out by the monsters of others, just as Will's was brought out by the monster in Hannibal. 

He didn't know what time it was, or how long they were there with Will on Hannibal's lap and Hannibal kneeling near the window of his bedroom. 

After several more minutes, or maybe it was hours, they finally moved mostly out of discomfort than anything else. They returned to the bed, which was now dry as Will had realized the dampness on his hand was actually sweat. They lied on their sides, watching each other in the dark and for once, Will wondered if Hannibal was afraid of what he would confront behind his eyelids. They must have fallen asleep at some point, because when Will woke, he was on his back with Hannibal pillowed on his chest, just above his heart.

* * *

"What did you tell your father about me?" 

"Are you worried?" 

"He is your father."

"You're worried." 

"There is nothing wrong with being aware of the impression I must succumb to or overcome."

"Worried."

* * *

The first thing Hannibal was immediately struck with was how alike Will and his father looked. He knew, of course, that parents and children often resembled each other, but it appeared that Will's mother gave very little to his overall genetics. They were the same height, had the same curly hair, the same ocean eyes. Except, as Will had said, Beau Graham was a little greyer and his beard was thicker than Will's constant scruff. The two of them entered the house in the same way, kicking their shoes on the doormat to knock off anything on the soles and then stepping inside and shrugging off their jackets. 

Beau was seemingly awestruck at Hannibal's house, causing Will to appear somewhat embarrassed and smiling at something that appeared to be a bit of an inside joke between father and son. Hannibal introduced himself after Beau's eyes made a roundtrip of his foyer, seeing the other man watch him closely. Though Will was partially hidden from his view, he could see the other watching the two of them intently, curious about how they would react. Beau eyed him warily, likely curious but hesitant about the man who only a few months ago, Will had called the Ripper. 

He led the two of them further into the house and into the dining room. Dinner was all but ready, only needing to be brought to the already made table. As Hannibal walked away after showing each man to their chair, he noted Beau's eyes still tracking over the room.

Beau dressed as Will had dressed before he exited BSHCI. While he looked nice, Hannibal could see the flannel that was mostly covered by the jacket. His hair was just as long as Will's, a little shaggier in the back, likely stemming from forgetting to have it cut until it was too long to bear. Will was the same way as over the time Hannibal had known him initially, his hair had grown considerably and even more when he was in BSHCI. 

As always, Hannibal had no reservations when it came to the contents of his prepared meal and the rather slim, delicate ginger pig that was the main course. 

He returned to the dining room, food in hand, setting it before the other two men. 

Hannibal had almost, almost, placed Will at the head of the table. Instead, he occupied his place to Hannibal's right, directly across from his father who was to Hannibal's left. 

Again, outwardly, Hannibal was struck by how similar Will and his father were. It was clear, at least to him, that Will kept much of his father with him. But he knew there were differences between the two. Hannibal guessed that on the surface, it was Beau who Will had chosen to model his mask on. 

He didn't sit yet, instead plating out the meal onto each person's plate before finally, pulling up the chair at the head of the table and sitting. 

Beau eyed the meal, as he had been everything else since he entered Hannibal's house. He had a healthy amount of skepticism about him, despite the relative air of comfort Will seemed to have about him. Hannibal wasn't offended by the skepticism, mostly curious about it.

What had Will told his father?

There had been very few words exchanged between the three of them, not that Will and Hannibal needed to verbalize things to communicate. 

"This is delicious," Beau said after a moment. He picked up the food on the edge of his fork. "What is it?"

"Lomo Saltado," Hannibal answered. 

"Hannibal is quite the chef," Will said, his voice not at all revealing the hint of pride that Hannibal glanced in his eyes. 

Will's father hummed and turned the fork in his hand, as though he was inspecting it. He then took another bite before looking over at Hannibal. 

"This isn't pork." Will tensed next to him, but Hannibal was less worried. He could feel the weight of Will's gaze on him, not even looking at his father as he swallowed his next bite. But Will's father continued eating, without confirmation or denial from Will or Hannibal. 

He turned to look at Will who was still watching him, somewhat alarmed.

* * *

Beau had reservations when it came to Hannibal Lecter. As he had thought initially when his son first arrived less than a week ago, Hannibal was far too fancy for Beau to have ever thought him Will's type. But moving beyond that, Beau knew immediately that Hannibal was a killer. He'd had the same vague feeling about his son since he was little, he could see the darkness within him. He had never pushed Will one way or another, but he was always ready in case his son's darker instincts got the better of him and he needed someone to turn to. It seemed he had embraced his darker instincts now. He was more relaxed with himself than Beau had ever seen him, even as an infant. He supposed Hannibal was to thank for that. 

It also didn't escape his notice that his son was now wearing a ring on a rather important finger where only days before it had been bare. It appeared he had made up his mind about which way he leaned when it came to Hannibal and truthfully, Beau was grateful not to be burying a body. But he would have for Will. 

But the real surprise came with the meal. He wasn't surprised, given the state of the house, about how fancy the meal would be. He was surprised though when he first bit into the meal and tasted something just slightly off about the meat. At first, he thought it might have been the spices that were unfamiliar to his palate. Next, he thought it was the quality of the meat and that for some reason, it was a bad batch. But given the state of Hannibal, he doubted that was the case. He had seen the way the man purposefully settled the plates in the middle of the table, adjusting them just slightly so they were fully center. That was not a man who would ever have and serve spoiled meet.

And then the next option sprung to his mind.

It was not pork at all in the meal. But rather something much different.

Long pig.

He wasn't certain until he saw the way Will looked at Hannibal, as though he were ready to defend him at any moment. But Beau let it slide, ignoring the fact that likely Will was knowingly ingesting human meat and that Hannibal was knowingly feeding it to them. 

He knew his son had changed. It was a shock to see how much. 

But what wasn't shocking was seeing the looks exchanged between Will and Hannibal. 

After Will left, he had done some digging on Hannibal, what he could anyway. There wasn't much on Hannibal Lecter before his acceptance to Johns Hopkins. But he was quite distinguished first as a surgeon and then as a psychologist. He had watched in what felt like real-time as Hannibal was brought on to consult with Will for the FBI and then Will's deteriorating state. He had known some of it beforehand, but the only source he could find the most information on was by someone named Freddie Lounds who didn't seem like the most credible source. He then found the coverage of Will's trial and noted more than once the zoned-out way his son had sat in the courtroom. Until there was a small video by Freddie Lounds. He caught the way Will's head moved, finally, at Hannibal Lecter's entrance. He read the accusations Will had thrown out copiously about Hannibal and the attempted murder of the doctor by someone who was supposedly acting under Will's direction. And then Will was released and the two of them were back in each other's orbit. 

Even Beau, from what little he knew, could tell how wrapped in each other they were before he ever stepped foot in their combined presence. Just as he knew from one simple statement that Will was in love. 

It was much more intense in person. 

Even during their eventual small talk, started by Will of all people, Beau noted the way Hannibal looked at Will. The adoring look on his face and the love in his eyes as though Will himself were personally responsible for hanging the moon. Will, in turn, was softer, almost blushing and grinning when he looked at Hannibal. Nothing like the stoic boy turned grumpy man Beau knew. He noticed the way they leaned toward each other, even if they weren't looking at each other. The way they could so easily communicate thoughts without ever saying a word. 

Beau felt like an outsider, as though he had stumbled onto a happy marriage and was third-wheeling it. 

He didn't trust Hannibal, though. 

When Will excused himself, he took his chance to speak to Hannibal directly. 

"What are you playin' at?" 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I'm not." Beau snorted in response. "I have no intention of hurting your son." 

"Anymore," Beau corrected. It didn't take a genius to know that Will's thoughts of murder had stemmed from pain and likely pain caused by Hannibal's hand directly. 

To his surprise though, guilt flashed across the man's face. 

"What's your plan? You seem like a person who would have grand schemes always brewing." Beau spoke frankly. 

Hannibal's lips twitched at that. "I see where your son gets his sense of frank speech from time to time." Hannibal took a sip of his wine between sentences, and Beau could see the thoughts flying behind his eyes. "I love him." He said simply, much to Beau's surprise.

With Will, coaxing out emotions that weren't toward animals was like pulling out teeth. Will had always been better with animals, collection strays even as a young boy. Beau had met his pack earlier in the day made of all shapes and sizes and thumping tails. Dogs were easier for him. People were hard. 

But Hannibal had no such reservations about emotions. He spoke them as if they were simple, and maybe for him, they were. 

"How did you know you loved him?" Part of him was unconvinced, skeptical, about Hannibal's love for his son. Often those who were darker, Will included, couldn't feel or felt too much. For Will, it had always been the latter. He felt everything from everyone all the time, no matter how much Beau tried or failed to shield him from the world. Outwardly, Hannibal seemed to be the former, lacking humanity on the deepest levels. 

"I thought he was dead." Hannibal's answer was low, as though it pained him to confess as much. 

Hannibal, it appeared, was the latter after all. 

Death had a funny way of reshuffling people's priorities. 

Will returned not long after and the three of them finished their dinner and subsequently dessert. Hannibal ushered them into the study, though it didn't take long for Will to follow him back to the dining room and then the kitchen. Beau waited for a while, hearing dishes clatter rooms over. 

Will was a bit obsessive too. Ever since he was little, Beau remembered him lining up his shirts the same way and folding his socks just so. When he picked things up, he had a habit of putting them down in the same place. Everything in Hannibal's house was strategically placed, a place for everything and everything in its place. Strangely, though, when Will was little, he had a habit of disrupting other people's obsessions, entering and finding something to move as though he were claiming it for his own. Beau imagined that everything in Hannibal's pristine, ordered house had been moved at least once, though he wondered if Will left it disorganized or put it back as he found it. 

Eventually, the clanking of dishes faded and he expected he would be joined at any moment for the drink he was currently nursing. 

Except minutes passed and still, no footsteps leading his way. 

He decided to see what was holding up his son and their host, retracing his steps carefully to the kitchen. 

The sight he was greeted with was not exactly surprising. 

Will and Hannibal were clinging to each other, Hannibal's arms wrapped around Will's body while Will had one hand fisted in the other's hair and the other clinging to his shoulder. They were lost in their shared kisses, which were slow and chaste but incredibly loving. He knew he had walked in on an intimate moment, but the whole night had felt similarly, so he couldn't quite say his discomfort was abnormal. 

It was obvious, when the two of them weren't trying to keep their composure for him, how drawn they were to each other. And just how much they adored one another. 

Beau was carefully backing away when the two of them separated, though they quickly moved to press their foreheads together with soft smiles on swollen lips. 

He thought back to his conversation with Will the first day he appeared as he took another drink of the expensive whiskey in his hand.

_Hate to break it to you, but that's love kiddo._


	15. Chapter 15

Hannibal wasn't surprised when he opened his office door at lunch to find a Graham on the other side. He was a little surprised to find that the person on the other side was the father rather than the son. Either way, he beckoned Beau to enter, stepping aside as he let the man pass. 

Beau entered, looking around the office the same way he had Hannibal's house. Hannibal let the door shut behind them, watching the other man look around the room for a moment before he stepped further into the office. Beau was still looking around, eyeing the mezzanine, when Hannibal approached his desk and shut the book he was currently working it. It was useless ultimately, as all his patient notes would be burned soon. But still, old habits die hard. Even his need to keep his patients' notes private. Unless it were Will in his office. 

The other man was dressed the same way Will used to dress. He wore a tucked in light blue flannel shirt and a pair of dress pants. His hair was much more tamed than his son's, not letting a curl fall onto his forehead. His beard was well managed and he had a few flecks of grey in his beard and hair that was more noticeable in the daylight. Hannibal supposed he was an attractive looking man, but unsurprisingly enough he found Will much more appealing. 

"I must say that I am quite surprised at Will's choices," Beau said, breaking the ice and once again, going right for the point. 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow in response. He doubted that the other man was referring to Will's sexuality, but he was prepared for a jab that way if it came.

"He always hated psychiatrists." 

Hannibal found himself chuckling lightly at that. He was well aware of Will's hatred of psychiatrists, given the way he had been so against even polite conversation with Hannibal when they first met. That changed very quickly after Hobbs's death though, as Will had returned to his office quite willingly, enough to climb the mezzanine his father was still eyeing. 

"Was never very good with people to being with," Beau muttered the last part mostly to himself, but Hannibal heard it either way. 

"He sees too much. It can be quite overbearing." 

"I know," Beau said facing him. "He always hated eye contact when he was younger. Told me they showed too much or too little. They were too distracting." Hannibal remembered that very same diatribe falling from Will's lips when they first met. It was one of the main reasons he found himself wanting to drag Will back into his sphere of influence then. What a brilliant mind was just waiting to be flexed behind those glasses. Hannibal's obsession had begun there. 

"He doesn't seem to have the same problem with you." 

Beau's statement pulled Hannibal from his thoughts. He was right, of course. Will hated eye contact and physical touch, but not with Hannibal. 

"You have quite the observation skill yourself." He remarked. 

Beau chuckled. "You would too if you raised Will. Even as a boy he saw things other people didn't. You can only hear a child tell you 'that person is sick' or 'he doesn't seem right' or 'she skips meals because she feels bad about herself' so often before you start to notice things yourself." The other's smile was wistful for a moment before he sighed. "May I?" He gestured to the patient's chair.

"Please." 

Beau sat and again, Hannibal was well aware of where Will had acquired his habits. 

He crossed the room to take the opposite chair, easily settling into his psychiatrist mask as he did. 

"You can imagine my surprise at seeing someone approach me who looks so much like my son but isn't the man I raised." Beau continued, still frank in his statements. 

"People change over time," Hannibal answered. "It's natural to see differences in people who you have not seen for a while." 

"Not cannibalism." 

Hannibal admired Beau's frankness. He was also immensely grateful for the fact that Beau wouldn't say anything because of Will. It made their frank conversations easier knowing that what was said between them wouldn't risk finding its way to the FBI. Hannibal would hate to be forced with the choice of whether or not to kill his beloved's father. 

"It would only be cannibalism if we were equals." He said the same thing to another person once. Unlike Abel Gideon though, Beau Graham was welcome to come and go from his table.

Beau nodded, sitting back in the chair. "I remember readin' that. According to Freddie Lounds, the Ripper considers his victims pigs." Beau's watchful ocean eyes were on him again. "I asked Will if you were the Ripper." Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "He didn't answer." 

He was immediately amused at the fact that Will sought to protect him, even from his own father. 

"Didn't need to. Already knew the answer. Will's not often wrong and he told everyone with ears who you were." 

Hannibal didn't feel the need to answer. If Beau was certain, he could always go to the FBI. 

"You were certain who I was before you entered my house and yet you made only one comment about what I chose to serve at my table and here you are." 

Beau narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before relaxing once again. "I know hunger. So does Will. I wish it wasn't that way, but I wasn't paid very much when he was growing up. We had to fend for ourselves sometimes. I'm guessing you do too." Hannibal was about to respond when Beau waved him off. "I've seen that look. Insatiable hunger." 

They were quiet for a moment. Beau Graham, much like his son, continued to surprise him. 

After several long moments, Beau let out a loud sigh. "I can't say that I'm not grateful you're in Will's life." At that, Hannibal did manage a nonverbal response, a raise of an eyebrow and a quirk of his head, before Beau continued. "I did my best for Will. Not claimin' to be the best father. But I did what I could. But he grew up lonely. We moved a lot for my job. Tryin' to get money anywhere we could. Being the new kid and seeing too much, it was hard on him. And he was so afraid of himself." The other man shook his head. 

"I worried about him. I knew he had somethin' within him. Somethin' he tried to cage but longed to be near. He was a cop to try to keep himself in check. But he was lonely. He was alone. I thought one of these days I'd lose him. And not to somethin' dark."

"You thought he would commit suicide," Hannibal said softly, following Beau's train of thought. 

"It was one of the worries that kept me up at night." Beau looked at him closely again. "I don't know how I feel about you. But I do think that you love him. And he loves you. And he's the happiest I've ever seen him."

Hannibal could see why Will loved this man so much. Enough that he would rather lie to keep his father safe than risk bringing him into his life. He kept his father safe from the monsters that haunted him, just as his father wanted to keep him safe from the monsters Will had grown up with. He wondered — if his father had lived long enough — if he would have been as supportive of him as Will's father was of his son. 

"If you hurt him again," Beau began, rising and clearly ready to end their conversation. Hannibal could almost hear the threat that was about to come. "He'll probably kill you." 

He couldn't help but smile at that. 

But in the back of his mind, he knew there was a lot about this conversation he would have to think about. 

* * *

Will felt strangely like a teenager as he stood outside his house. His father was upstairs, having gone to sleep early. Or he claimed to anyway. Will was certain he was still awake, which is why he chose to wait outside for the familiar Bentley that was currently rolling up the drive to stop behind his car. It was strange how comforting a car could be, even if he had yet to see its passenger. The first time he truly slept in another person's presence was in that car. He could barely force himself to sleep around other people, knowing he was prone to nightmares. But with Hannibal, he had felt safe enough to drift off. 

Hannibal stepped from the car, looking tenser than normal. He couldn't help but think it was due to his father's drop in on Hannibal at lunch. He hadn't asked where he was going when he left, but he knew when he came back. Whatever their conversation was, he didn't push though he knew the basics of it. 

Hannibal neared as Will stood and before he knew it, the other was pressing against him, their lips locking together. Will was backed into the side of his house under Hannibal's onslaught, though he wasn't exactly protesting. 

He slid his hand through the other's jacket, pressing against the heat of the other's lower back as he pushed them together. Hannibal was on him, ravenous, but differently than normal. This felt more like he was trying to reassure himself of something than it did their usual loss of composure in each other's presence. He was strangely glad to find a ravenous Hannibal Lecter to meet him, as he was still fighting off the dream from the night before. But Hannibal, alive and in his arms, was enough to push away the feeling of constant blood on his hands. 

He didn't feel the cold as they stood there, pressed against each other and each taking their comfort from the other. 

He didn't know what was enough to rattle Hannibal, other than maybe the memory of his sister, but he wasn't about to deny him the comfort he needed. 

Hannibal moved from his lips, over his jaw, and to his neck, pressing kiss after kiss against his pulse point in his neck. He turned his head slightly. It should worry him that he was baring his throat to a cannibal, but the most he was met with was a light bite and mostly a tongue. After a moment, Hannibal inhaled, moving to nuzzle against Will's neck, his nose brushing his ear. He moved his other hand into the other's hair. The movement seemed to remind Hannibal of his enjoyment of tugging at Will's curls because Hannibal's hand mirrored his movement, fisting in his curls, fingernails grazing his scalp. 

"What's wrong?" He asked now that he could finally catch his breath. 

"I was reminded of something today. Something I was foolish to let slip into the back of my mind." 

He finally managed to turn his head so they could be face to face, now that Hannibal had moved away from his neck. 

"What could you possibly have forgotten?" 

Hannibal was looking at him with awe and love as their eyes finally met, making Will suddenly feel as though he should squirm in the other's grasp. He was well aware that Hannibal wasn't a run of the mill psychopath. His problem wasn't that he felt too little, but that he felt too much. It was hard for others to match the depth of his emotions. Love for him was beyond obsession for anyone else. Will could relate to that. 

"How grateful I am every day that you're alive," Hannibal whispered. "I thought I lost you once." 

Will's mind flew, sending him back almost a year, to the day he had stepped into Hannibal's office after Tobias Budge. How he hadn't known then who Hannibal was, was one of the things he dwelled on during BSHCI. But now, all he could think about was the relief on Hannibal's face when he had entered the room, the way he looked at Will adoringly as he so often did now. He had been willing to confront Hannibal then, with the suspicions that he pushed away so thoroughly in the back of his mind because he would have been coming bearing other secrets. Secrets that would have landed them in this situation once again. The more he thought about it, the more he found possible futures for them all ending in the same place, with each other. 

"Hannibal," He began, uncertain of what he would say but feeling the need to say something. 

But the other shook his head and reclaimed his lips. 

He wasn't certain how they managed their way inside until they were on his bed. 

"Stay with me," Hannibal whispered into his hair.

"I wouldn't want to go anywhere else."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. My hand slipped...  
> Enjoy!

Will loved his father. He truly did. 

But he was glad when the next day, he and Hannibal found themselves alone in Hannibal's house. The morning had been hectic, between Beau and Hannibal trying to navigate their way around each other, several dogs, and Hannibal first making breakfast and then departing for work. It was the busiest his house had ever been when it wasn't being torn apart by the FBI. The rest of the day was spent without much excitement until late in the afternoon when he received a call from BSHCI stating that Frederick Chilton wanted to see him. He agreed, reluctantly, and was set to be at BSHCI in the morning. Which was an excellent excuse for him to leave his father for the night and drive the hour drive to Baltimore. 

Dinner was the usual heated, tension-filled affair it was between the two of them and he was all but certain they would attack each other in the kitchen. 

They didn't though, as Hannibal seemed more in the mood to play with his food. All it took was a coy smile and Will was following him through the house. Will, however, was far less willing to play around as the first chance he had to grasp the other, he did. He managed to loosen Hannibal's tie from where it was tucked under his clothes and wrapped it around his hand, pulling the other closer. Hannibal moved willingly, folding his arms around Will. They had only made it as far as the study, but he wondered if they had the restraint to make it any further. Hannibal wasn't one do deny himself. He took what he wanted. 

They stood there for a moment, Hannibal's tie wrapped around his hand and their eyes locked. 

Truthfully, he didn't want to look anywhere else. After a moment, Hannibal raised his hand, brushing his thumb over Will's cheek. 

"I admire your eagerness," He said softly. "But this is best reserve for the bedroom." Will smirked and almost opened his mouth to protest when the hand that was on his cheek moved into his hair and _pulled._ His head was jerked back, his mouth opening automatically in a moan. "Bed." Hannibal whispered next to his ear. "I plan on taking my time with you." 

Hannibal released him and Will was frozen for a moment, arousal anchoring him to the floor. That changed quickly though as Hannibal continued his path to the bedroom, Will following closely behind. 

It turned out that Hannibal's idea of taking his time was the same type of worship Will was met with when he returned from Louisiana. The other's lips trailed everywhere over his body, leaving bites and kisses in his wake. He sucked a bruise just above Will's hip, though it wasn't as though anyone but him would ever see it. He couldn't help but squirm when Hannibal's lips trailed down his leg and back up the other. He was making his touch felt everywhere so Will would feel the ghost of his hands well into the next day. After a moment, Hannibal moved back down his torso, over his abdomen, and finally settled himself between Will's thighs. 

The other trailed his tongue up the length of his cock before taking him into his mouth and sucking. Will's back arched off the bed automatically at the feeling, at some relief to his achingly hard cock. But even more so, it was the way Hannibal focused, single-mindedly, as though it were something else entirely for him. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch the other, fisting his hand in the other's hair. His other hand was clenching the sheets, threatening to tear them. He forced himself not to buck up into the tight heat of Hannibal's mouth, though it was by far a tempting possibility. Especially since he knew Hannibal would let him. 

One of Hannibal's hands roamed over his thigh and hip before he pulled himself off Will's cock, turning his head to sink his teeth into his thigh. Will jumped automatically, more out of surprise than anything, but Hannibal's jaw was locked, sucking another bruise into the flesh of his thigh. After he seemed satisfied, he shifted again, running his tongue over his balls and then his cock before taking Will into his mouth once more. 

Will was shaking. 

He didn't know how long they were like that, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head at Hannibal's talented mouth. He knew the other had an oral fixation, but it seemed to be amplified now. He must have started thrusting, losing himself to the pleasure and motions, because Hannibal hummed, his hand tightening on Will's hip. 

He was almost at the edge when Hannibal pulled him back, moving off his cock once more and crawling up the bed. Their lips met and Will could faintly taste himself on Hannibal's tongue. It should not have been anywhere near as erotic as it was. 

When Hannibal pulled away, he was certain it was to find the lube, but instead the other beckoned him to open his eyes. He obeyed, finding Hannibal's amber eyes above him and god was he breathtaking. Will had never been immune to Hannibal and the fact that he was aesthetically pleasing. But seeing him now, his mask down as it always was for Will now, with his hair out of place and his lips red and swollen, he looked like a god staring down at Will from on high. 

He was on the other in a second, practically tackling him onto the bed next to them. Hannibal allowed his onslaught of needy kisses as he shifted one leg between Will's pressing his thigh against him. He was grinding against the other automatically, rocking back and forth between the random brushes of their lengths and the other's thigh. 

He wasn't surprised when Hannibal snarled, rolling them again so Will was on his back once more. The other offered the same ravenous, hungry, needy kisses that Will was used to and he reciprocated them with equal fervor. He swore the more of Hannibal he had, the hungrier he returned. 

Hannibal tore himself away from the kiss, his lips redder now and panting for breath. 

"I told you I'd take my time with you." He offered Will another kiss. "I plan to see that through." 

"Hannibal-" 

The other cut him off. 

"Hush beloved." His lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk. "Don't you trust me?" 

"I'm not sure I should." Will answered. 

It was probably the appropriate answer as Hannibal's response was to bury his face in Will's neck and bite. His back arched automatically, his head turning. Hannibal's mouth and tongue were all over his neck before the other pulled away abruptly and tugged Will so he turned first onto his side and then his belly. 

Hannibal's lips were on his shoulders and then his neck again, lavishing them as he had previously before he began his explorations down Will's body once again. Hannibal moved up and down his body as he did before, leaving what would probably be another bruise over the small of his back. 

He only realized what was coming when Hannibal settled between his legs once more, his hands on Will's ass. He had no time to prepare himself mentally for what he would feel when suddenly Hannibal's tongue ran over his hole. He groaned, his hands once again fisting in the sheets. They would be torn by the time the night was over. He was treated to the same lavishing that his neck, throat, and shoulders experienced, except now Hannibal's tongue could push inside his body. 

And it did.

Will found himself rolling back his hips slightly, rocking onto Hannibal's tongue. The other planted a hand on his lower back, pulling slightly to encourage the movement. Will groaned into the pillow, finding his body arching slightly. Hannibal's tongue pressed into him, licking as though he were starving and Will's body the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. Hannibal shifted slightly, biting at the swell of Will's ass before returning to his previous movements. 

Will was shaking again, except this time, he would swear Hannibal was shaking too. 

Hannibal added a finger, first tracing Will's hole and then pressing inside him. The other's tongue never stopped moving and when he added another finger, he could swear Hannibal used that to his advantage to lick into him. The other began to increase the pace of his fingers, his tongue still swirling around them. Will's teeth sunk into the pillow, needing _something._ Strangely enough, he knew Hannibal would find it erotic if Will managed to tear one of his pillows with only his teeth. 

The other pressed a third finger into him, humming when Will let out an auditory moan.

He was rocking back with fervor now, fucking himself on Hannibal's fingers and tongue. But he was so aroused it was nearly painful, especially having been denied his previous orgasm. 

Hannibal, however, only let him near the edge once again before pulling back a second time. Will groaned in frustration. He would take care of himself at this rate if Hannibal insisted on denying him over and over. He was ready to roll over when Hannibal pinned his hips to the bed and Will heard the familiar snap of the lube cap. 

_Finally._

Hannibal pushed into him slowly. Their legs were next to each other, Will using the feeling to ground himself as Hannibal entered him. He didn't bury himself though, instead pulling back slightly and pushing in just past the head of his cock. He repeated the motion over and over until Will was about to let out a growl of frustration. Hannibal then snapped his hips forward, pushing into him completely. He had the same full feeling he did the first time he had with Hannibal, and the feeling made him moan from low in his chest. 

After that, Hannibal wasted no time thrusting into him, only the brutal thrusts were much different from this angle. This felt so much more different than their past endeavors. He had experienced their frantic entwinings, the need that pervaded them and the inability to pull themselves apart. They were lost to each other then, drowning in each other and yet refusing to come up for oxygen. He had experienced Hannibal's worship, but even that devolved into something much more animalistic. He had even experienced the slow, passionate sex that truly felt like making love. 

But this was different. 

He felt as though he were being claimed. As though this were Hannibal's final seal on making Will his. 

The other pulled his hips upward and Will went easily, also pushing himself up on his hands. He rocked back into every one of Hannibal's thrusts, groaning as he did. Hannibal was panting behind him, his grip on Will's hips so tight that Will would have a partial belt of handprints in the morning. One of Hannibal's hands eventually moved to his shoulder and before he knew it, he was being pulled upwards. His back collided with Hannibal's chest and Will's head fell back automatically. Hannibal's hand moved into his throat, holding him in place. 

Their bodies continue to slap together, Hannibal keeping up the pace of his brutal thrusting. 

The other's hand moved from his hip to his cock, wrapping around him and moving in time with his thrusts. 

Will was shaking apart, his grip on Hannibal's forearm so tight that he knew Hannibal would have crescent moon shaped divots in his arm the next day. 

He managed to turn his head, finding Hannibal's lips there to meet him. 

After however long, Hannibal wrestled them both to bed, pinning Will under him. His thrusts were slightly slower, but deeper as he shifted his grip on Will to hold him closer. Will's head was thrown back automatically, against Hannibal's shoulder while the other was next to his ear, letting loose a litany of moans and groans that were music to Will's ears and pleasure addled mind. 

He was so close. So damned close. 

But it was his turn to kill his orgasm. 

"Hannibal," He managed, using the last of his willpower to say the other's name. "Please. I need-"

The other whispered a yes before pulled free from Will. He turned himself over and was immediately met by Hannibal's weight and the other pushing back into him. Will's legs wrapped around his lower body while he busied his mouth by biting and sucking a bruise on to Hannibal's shoulder. 

They were moving again after a moment and Will was suddenly aware that he wasn't on his back anymore. They were sitting up now, Hannibal gazing up into his face before pressing kisses against his chin. 

Will met every thrust of Hannibal's, their bodies moving so in tune with one another that he was certain his brain was barely part of the equation anymore. The other's hand moved between them and wrapped around Will's cock once more. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe. He was only aware of Hannibal.

The rest of the world could burn. The house could come crashing down on their heads and he wouldn't care. 

Hannibal, only Hannibal, mattered to him. He was lost, so lost, to Hannibal Lecter that the world could come crashing through the shut bedroom door right then and Will might have torn it apart with his teeth. 

He came with a cry, feeling tears prickle at the edge of his squeezed shut eyes. Hannibal came after another couple of thrusts and suddenly the two of them were collapsing back onto the bed in a heap. 

"Hannibal," He murmured, still riding the high of his orgasm. 

The other seemed to know what he wanted, shifting so their lips met once again. 

"I love you," He said as Hannibal pulled from his body. "I love you." He couldn't stop saying it between near frantic kisses. Why he was suddenly frantic, he didn't know. But he felt the insane need to tell the other, to force the knowledge onto him so he would never forget it. 

"I love you too, Will." Hannibal answered, managing to pull away just slightly. "Will," He said softly and he opened his eyes to find the other hovering above him. " _I love you_."


	17. Chapter 17

Will dreamt of the Normal Chapel. Or a piece of it anyway. He dreamt of the inside, the high walls and painted ceilings. He dreamt of perfectly lined chairs leading to a parapet. He dreamt of someone lighting a candle and a darkness that lurked just out of his view but beckoned him to come to it. And he did.

The shadow pulled him closer, wrapping around him as though it were a blanket. He was lulled into peace, unafraid as the darkness kept crawling upward. He was pulled next to a beating heart and inward until he felt familiar arms. Within the darkness was a man, Hannibal, waiting for him patiently until they were together.

Safe.

He felt safe. 

He could hear a stream trickle in the distance.

* * *

He could feel eyes on him as he woke, stirring slightly against smooth sheets. The bed next to him was empty, but he knew he wasn't alone in the room. He shifted slightly and the faint noise that he barely registered somewhere behind him ceased entirely. 

"Don't move," Hannibal's voice was still thick with sleep, and given that the bed was warm next to him, he had only just recently left. 

The blanket was pooled around Will's waist, pressing again his lower back, his bare back exposed to the morning air. His curls were more than likely splayed across the pillow with one of his arms stretched out to where Hannibal had previously lied, likely having been draped over his abdomen. As requested, he didn't move, only blinked rapidly to keep himself from slipping back into sleep. The noise behind him resumed. 

He could feel eyes flicking to and from him, could hear the way the pencil moved over the paper. He knew when Hannibal was focusing on a fine line, or when he was moving in broad strokes over the page. Will should have expected this at some point, to be the object of one of Hannibal's drawings. He could almost picture Hannibal behind him, sitting on one of the chairs on the other side of the room next to the fireplace, his sketch pad resting on his leg, hair falling into his amber eyes. 

He didn't know how long he stayed like that until there was movement across the room. Hannibal came near the bed, crawling up Will's body and pressing kisses against his back until he reached Will's hair. His hand moved onto Will's shoulder, massaging lightly while he buried his face in Will's curls, inhaling deeply. Will squirmed under the attention, eventually allowed to twist himself until they were face to face. 

Hannibal was watching him adoringly, his eyes soft and welcoming when Will turned to face him. Their lips met in a kiss and then another and then another. Hannibal was petting him, running his hands down Will's body and then back up and into his hair. Their intimacy was not sexual in nature, just loving as he turned to trap Hannibal against him. Hannibal hummed against him, a sound that reminded Will wildly of a cat purring. 

"I wonder if you would indulge me more, my love." 

Will's heart backflipped at hearing Hannibal call him his love and he found himself nodding in response. 

It turned out that Hannibal's idea was coaxing Will into a bath. Hannibal seemed to sense his hesitation, letting him enter the bath first before entering himself, pressing his back against Will's chest. It was so intimate that Will froze for a second. Hannibal's weight leaned back against his chest more after a moment and that was enough to break Will from his shy stupor. He wrapped his arms around the other's chest, finding Hannibal's hands there to meet him, grasping his wrists. The water was warm and between that and Hannibal, he was certain he would fall asleep once more. He was surprised at the fact that the two of them, neither of them all that short, managed to fit into the tub together. He was also surprised when Hannibal leaned his head back, resting his head on Will's shoulder. 

"Comfortable?" Will asked softly.

"Incredibly." 

An hour later they were dressed and fed, both about to leave for their individual destinations when Hannibal pulled him in for another kiss. 

"After your visit, come to the office." Hannibal's fingers linger on a couple of strands of his hair. "I need your help." 

"No, you don't," Will answered, not even knowing what Hannibal wanted help with, but knew that he didn't need Will there for it. 

"No, I don't." Hannibal agreed. "But I'll have your lunch, and your company if you will gift me it." 

"I'll be there." 

Hannibal smiled softly at that. "After today, we will need to dispose of Miss Lounds's body."

Will sighed. He knew it was coming, but that didn't mean he was entirely ready. Right now, it felt like he had a gift he could never have expected receiving but would have killed for. He had his father, he had Hannibal. Even Abigail was within arm's reach, though their interactions were mostly reserved for texts. She was finishing her high school education and then was due to begin university out of the country. Her number was unregistered so even the occasional phone call and text wouldn't give anything away unless someone looked further into it. By that point, Abigail would be gone. He wanted to hold onto this, all of this, for a little while longer. Unfortunately, he knew that there was a likely chance that every interaction with his father would be goodbye. 

Hannibal seemed to sense Will's longing to hold onto a life he only recently discovered and brushed his thumb over Will's chin. Will sighed again, knowing that he wasn't the only one who was leaving everything behind. Hannibal had built a life for himself. A life which would be cracked by their departure and shattered by the investigation that followed. Hannibal Lecter would become the Chesapeake Ripper, and Will his murderous lover. 

"I wonder what she would have called us. Freddie I mean." 

Hannibal's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I believe I have the answer to that." Will raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps that will entice you to my office." 

Will laughed. "You know already that I will be there since the moment you asked." 

"Yes," Hannibal answered. They shared another kiss before the two of them left the house. 

Why did he have the feeling that he wouldn't return?

* * *

Frederick was already waiting for him by the time he arrived. He wasn't late, but he was well aware of the way BSHCI worked, even if Frederick Chilton was no longer in charge.

There hadn't been a changing of the guard since he left, as every face he encountered was the exact same as when he last walked through the facility. He never wanted to step foot here again, and yet here he was meeting the man who once oversaw his supposed care. Frederick's hair was a little longer, his face a little scruffier than it had been when they last saw each other at Will's house after Hannibal had enacted his plan to frame him. 

Frederick looked up when Will entered, his eyes flashing with something at his appearance before gesturing to the chair across from him as though they were old friends. 

Will sat, watching the other man across from him from the moment he entered the room. 

"Hello, Frederick."

"Hello, Will." The other looked him over. "You're looking quite well. Healthy." 

Will wanted to roll his eyes at the jab. He had been handed over into the care of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane after his other hospitalization which doused the fire in his brain. It was Frederick who saw the brunt of his recovery, including the days he was shaking so bad he had to be under constant surveillance for threats of seizures or strokes. The fact that he was returning physically intact must have sent some cogs whirring in Frederick's brain, but he could hardly be bothered to care. 

"You wanted to see me, Frederick?" 

"I want to know how much longer I'm sitting in here for crimes I didn't commit." The other's eyes hardened for a second. "Or do you want to make me stand trial as revenge?" 

It was a tempting thought, Will couldn't lie. He remembered his own trial and Frederick's smug demeanor as he sat in front of him and proclaimed him a psychopath. It would be fitting to let Frederick endure his own trial with people accusing him of crimes he didn't commit. But Will knew that his near departure would have a cascade of events, one of which would result in Frederick being released from his imprisonment. 

Chilton watched him for another moment, the silence settling heavily between them. 

"You know, I've become quite popular these days." 

"How fortuitous. It's everything you've ever wanted." He couldn't stop himself from snarking at Frederick. 

The other smirked, seemingly enjoying their lackluster back and forth. They were silent again for a moment longer before Frederick continued. 

"When you left, you were hellbent on taking Hannibal down." He spread his hands, the handcuff clinking with the movement. "Yet here I am and out there he is." 

"You won't have to wait much longer," Will answered. 

"I doubt my getting out is on the top of your list of priorities." He wasn't wrong, but Will didn't feel the need to answer. "I'm not the only one growing antsy." 

He raised an eyebrow at that. He knew he didn't need to talk though as Frederick would soon continue, enjoying the sound of his voice.

"Jack and Alana have both come to see me." 

Jack didn't surprise him, but Alana did. She was no fan of Frederick Chilton. Will was probably the only reason Frederick hadn't been awarded a black eye the last time the three of them were in the same room together. 

"Jack is doubting me," Will said, though the words weren't at all a surprise. 

"Oh yes," Frederick confirmed, as though being the sole bearer of all the cards made him incredibly happy. Three different games were going, and he had glimpses into all of them. 

But Jack and his doubt, though earned and true, wasn't what piqued Will's interest. It was Alana. What did Alana know? What did she see? And why did it prompt her to find Frederick Chilton of all people? But it appeared Frederick wanted Will to play a game he wasn't at all interested in. They sat in silence once again before it became obvious that neither side would give up their stubborn silence. Frederick leaned back in his chair, sighing through his nose. 

Will watched him for a moment longer, wondering if his smug side would win out over his interest in playing this game, but it didn't seem that would happen. 

He stood, beckoning Frederick a goodbye that would hopefully be lifelong. 

As he reached the door, about to open it, the other man called out behind him. 

"That ring is new. And on a rather important finger." Will's thumb drifted over the ring subconsciously. "He, or she, is very lucky." Silence. Then: "I hope you haven't lost yourself to your own game."


	18. Chapter 18

Will was surprised at Hannibal's lack of patients that day. He had arrived early and was determined to wait in his car until the other was done, but Hannibal exited the building, waving Will over and into it. He followed, passing the other who held the door to his office open to him. Whatever Hannibal wanted to do, it was clear he found it more important than seeing his patients for the day. Or perhaps he had already scheduled them so there would be very few that day. Knowing Hannibal, whatever he wanted to do had long since been planned before he asked Will to help him. 

He draped his coat over the couch, his mind flashing with memories from the last time they were on that couch together. 

A fire crackled on the far side of the room, but it was Hannibal's gaze that heated him more. He looked around the office for a moment, before he finally looked at the other who was across the room, leaning on his desk. 

"How was your visit?" 

"Enlightening," Will answered. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, a silent request for him to continue. "Jack and Alana both visited Chilton." Will ran his fingers over the back of the chair he had so frequented. Over and over he was beginning to have the feeling that he wouldn't be returning to places he had frequented. This morning at the house and again now, in Hannibal's office. He couldn't escape the feeling that the end was near, and it made the prospect of Hannibal being out of his line of sight almost a terrifying thought. 

"Jack does not surprise you," Hannibal said. 

It amused him how much they were in each other's minds. It was as though there was a tunnel connecting their minds, thoughts flowing freely through it. For Will, it was always that way, but it was one-sided, until Hannibal. No, Jack's visit to Frederick Chilton did not surprise him and it didn't surprise Hannibal either. Their shared surprise came in the form of Alana Bloom. Just as he had earlier in the day, Will wondered why. Why had Alana gone to Frederick? He was missing something, and he didn't like it.

Though he supposed that was how Alana must feel. He and Hannibal hadn't exactly been gentle with the people between them. Frederick Chilton awaited trial for crimes he didn't commit, Matthew Brown was in the facility he once worked at, Alana had been pushed and pulled by Will and Hannibal, angled this way and that until she was rarely ever in the same place with the two of them again; Freddie Lounds was dead, Randall Tier was dead, and then there was Jack. Jack had seemingly watched one friend implode, guided that way by his constant abuse of Will's psyche, only to eventually realize that Will had been right all along and the friend he thought the steadiest was not steady in the way he thought. Anyone who had found their way between them, even before their relationship took an intimate turn, had been hurt in some way. And quite frankly, Will didn't care. 

That should worry him, somewhat, but he found it didn't. He had what he wanted. Who he wanted. 

Despite Hannibal's abuse of his psyche as well and Will's subsequent attempt at betrayal, they had twisted and turned right back to each other. He had never felt as whole as he did with Hannibal, never as alive or as relaxed with himself. It was an amazing feeling. He was happy and free, something he never thought he'd feel. 

"You're wondering why Alana felt the need to see him," Hannibal said. 

Will shrugged. "The question has crossed my mind. But I suppose she felt she had nowhere else to turn." Hannibal cocked his head. "Everyone was lying to her. Jack, me, you. It must have made Chilton, even with all his," Will waved his hand flippantly to visualize the word he couldn't quite conjure. "He must have been more appealing than confronting any of us directly." 

"Alana isn't one to avoid direct conflict." 

Will had thought that too, but it was easier than thinking of the alternative. 

"You think that while you and I are playing our game, Jack, Chilton, and Alana are playing theirs." 

"I wouldn't say they're playing it together. Jack's only shot at you without proof was me. Chilton's locked away." Not that that mattered. They both knew Hannibal could snatch Frederick out from under his own nose if he wanted to. "And Alana has never been Chilton's biggest fan." But the question then became, if Alana was avoiding direct confrontation for the time being, what was she doing? What did she have planned? What game was she playing? 

Jack would be bearing down on them at any moment with Frederick the presumed puppeteer from his cell. Jack wouldn't see it that way, but Frederick was excellent at putting thoughts into the heads of susceptible men. It was the reason Abel Gideon was found in his guest bedroom. After Will and Hannibal's disappearance, Frederick would be able to walk free, and he would find someone else to drive the way he wanted. It brought to mind the terrifying idea of what would happen if Alana and Frederick ever worked together, how far their reach could be when pushed in the wrong direction.

Hannibal would find it amusing of course. 

"He knows," Will said suddenly, his thumb running over the ring on his hand.

Hannibal didn't bother to ask what Will meant, the movement and previous conversation coupled with the fact that he knew how Will's mind worked would be enough to tell him what Will was talking about. 

Hannibal's lips quirked into a smirk before he pushed off the desk. "Come here you beautiful wild thing." 

Will obeyed after a moment, walking over to where the other stood. Hannibal wrapped him in his arms, the two of them folding into each other. He rested his head on the other's shoulder as Hannibal turned his head to press his cheek to the side of Will's face. They stood there for a moment, letting themselves melt together before they separated once more. 

"You said you needed my help?" Will asked. 

Hannibal smiled and ran his hand through Will's curls before pulling free from his grasp. 

A few minutes later, Will was being showered by a flurry of paper and falling notebooks. The next book that Hannibal tossed over the side of the railing landed neatly in Will's arms, open. He turned the book, finding elegant script waiting for him and his own name to greet him. 

"These are your notes on me." He looked up to where Hannibal stood above him. He had discarded his suit jacket before climbing the mezzanine, his sleeves rolled up. In his hands was a stack of notebooks which he tossed over the side to join the pile on the floor. 

"That they are," Hannibal said as he turned slightly to see the notes. 

Will picked up some of the notebooks off the floor, reading over the notes of his own mind. Like other psychiatrists, Hannibal was obviously fascinated with his mind, but unlike the others, there was no fear in those notes. There was awe, wonder, an obsession that turned to love, but no fear. 

He didn't bother tearing out pages as the defunct clock stared up at him the numbers and hands strewn to one side. He tossed the whole thing into the fire, watching as the flames licked around the edge of the pages before beginning to consume it whole. 

_Goodbye, Will Graham._

They spent the next hour burning notebooks, tearing out pages, and watching it all go up in smoke. 

"Won't your patients need those after you're gone?" Will asked over lunch. 

"My life will be taken apart by the FBI after I'm gone. I would spare my patients the trouble." 

Will leaned over the edge of the desk, turning Hannibal's head as he did, their lips meeting. He could taste the sauce from their lunch on Hannibal's tongue and it only served to entice him more. He was surprised when Hannibal seemingly abandoned the meal, pulling Will closer until he had to awkwardly move around the desk to straddle Hannibal's lap. 

After a series of languid kisses, Hannibal pulled back and rested his hands on Will's hips. "You should spend the night with your father." 

Will nodded. This night could be the last. More and more that sense of doom and finality was hovering at the edge of his mind. But he was distracted from it for a moment as Hannibal pressed a kiss against his chin. 

"Are you trying to make up for our lost night now?" He half teased, half asked sincerely. 

"Perhaps," Hannibal answered, pulling him back into another kiss. 

They ended up by the fire, Will's shirt under Hannibal's torso to act as some form of barrier between his body and the floor as Will let his lips and tongue explore lower than he had before. He watched Hannibal's near red eyes, or so they looked in the firelight, widen and his pupils dilate as Will licked a stripe up the other's cock. The other's brilliant eyes never left him as he took Hannibal's cock in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. He hadn't done anything like this since his university days but he was a quick study, remembering exactly what Hannibal had done to him. Unlike Hannibal, who seemed to want to choke himself on Will's cock, Will focused more on the head. Hannibal groaned above him, but never did he let himself fall so much into his pleasure that he took his eyes off Will. 

He locked eyes with the other, watching him through his lashes while his mouth focused on Hannibal's cock. 

He didn't know how long he was there, how long Hannibal let him be there, but eventually, Hannibal was beckoning him upward. Hannibal claimed his mouth immediately while Will settled between the other's legs. They had brought the lube with them, since Hannibal had somehow thought ahead to stash a bottle in the drawer of his desk as Will found out the last time, and he grabbed it, spreading it as best he could on his fingers while Hannibal kept his mouth otherwise occupied. 

He probably didn't ready the other as much as he should have when he finally pushed into him. Hannibal, though, never seemed to care the degree of readiness for himself as he ground his hips against Will the moment he pushed inward. 

He had been determined to take this slower, to show Hannibal even an ounce of the worship the other had given him, but Hannibal wasn't having it. 

He wanted more, that much Will could tell from the way his hips pushed upward and the neediness of his hands and kisses. 

It wasn't long before he lost himself to the motions, burying himself in Hannibal as though he belonged there. 

They were gasping and moaning in tandem, the slap of skin on skin dampened only by the crackle of the fire next to them. Though between them, they managed to light a fire of their own. Their kisses were sloppy and needy, the movement of Will's hips had no rhythm. 

Will planted a hand on Hannibal's chest, feeling soft hair between his fingers as he pushed himself upward and thrust more into the other's body. The slight separation rewarded him with the excellent sight of watching Hannibal come apart underneath him. Hannibal's legs were resting on his hips and his ankles hooked behind him. One of his hands was clasped with Will's, hanging awkwardly off to the side with the other held Will's forearm. His lips were kiss-swollen and parted and his eyes were shut. His face was not holding back the pleasure he felt as his hips bucked up to meet Will's every thrust. 

Feeling brave, Will shifted his hand from Hannibal's chest to his cock before bending down. The movements of his hand were in time with his hips as their lips met again. He could tell that Hannibal was nearing the edge, his orgasm just within reach. He broke from their kiss, moving his lips next to Hannibal's ear.

"Come for me." 

The noise Hannibal made was downright sinful as his body arched. His release painted Will's fingers and with a little bit on their abdomens. It was another half dozen thrusts and Will was right behind him, dropping his head onto the other's shoulder while he came. 

His body collapsed onto Hannibal, both breathing heavily. 

"Beautiful," Hannibal murmured into his curls.

* * *

Will sat with his father in front of the fireplace, both having eaten and each with a glass of whiskey in their hands. The dogs were scattered around the room, with Winston on his feet. The ticket that Hannibal had insisted he take with him when he left the office, which could be used at any time, was sitting next to the front door. 

Neither had said much, though Will felt like he should. But everything he wanted to say felt like goodbye, and he didn't want it to be. 

After several more moments of silence, his dad stood, telling him to stay where he was and that he would be right back. Will heard him move up the stairs, shifting things around before he came back down, a small box in hand. He set it down on the arm of the chair Will sat in, tapping it lightly.

"For you." Beau moved back into his chair, settling in with the whiskey once again. 

Will looked at the box, taking it in hand as though it were something precious. After a moment, he opened it, finding two rings to greet him. 

"They were my parents' rings," Beau said quietly after a sip of whiskey. "I don't know what you'll do with my mom's, but something told me to bring it. My dad's wasn't exactly fancy, but I had it polished. It's as good as any ring." 

Will stared at the rings for a moment more before closing the box, a lump in his throat. It was the closest to a blessing Beau could have given short of saying the words out loud. Before he could say anything else though, Beau continued. 

"I know what's been troubling you. And I know it's not Hannibal. At least not anymore. You're smart. Always have been. That's why you brought me here. It wasn't just sentimentality for dear old dad." Beau leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and the drink between his hands. "This is goodbye." He jerked his head toward the window. "The world is gonna come at any moment. I know that. And when it does, you're gonna run." Will opened his mouth but Beau continued as though he hadn't. "You're not gonna stop. You're not gonna worry about me. You're gonna run. You're gonna get far out of the reach of the law and you're not gonna look back." 

"Dad-"

"No." Beau insisted. "I can take care of myself. Been doing it a lot longer than you. They got nothing on me. They'll look at me funny because I'm your dad and that's it. I'll be fine. And so will you. You're gonna run and Hannibal will take care of you." Beau offered a small yet cynical smile. "I don't think he will let you out of his sight anymore though. He loves you and you love him. And that's enough for me to know that you'll be ok." 

Will opened his mouth to say something, to thank his father, or to say he was sorry for having stayed away for so long.

But he didn't have the chance. 

The dogs' heads perked up, ears attentive. Will looked toward the window, seeing lights coming up the drive. 

They were here.

And he was out of time. 

He stood, abandoning his drink. Beau stood as well, looking out the window as the lights drew nearer. 

Will turned, opening his mouth but no words came out. 

"I know," Beau said, first clasping him on the shoulder, then pulling him into a crushing hug. Will still had the box in his hand as he hugged his father back. "Go," Beau said after a moment, releasing him. "Go." 

"But-"

Beau shook his head. "Get your jacket and that ticket and go. Take your phone and run. Find Hannibal." Will obeyed, grabbing the ticket from by the door as the dogs stood, ready to bark at the newcomers. He turned, his throat tight to the point of pain and tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "Go." Beau insisted softly. "This isn't goodbye."

* * *

Jack was expecting all kinds of things as he pulled up the drive to Will's house, a small army in tow. 

He had managed to earn his way onto Kade Prurnell's semi-good side by virtually disowning Will. It was all he could do to keep his job. Without a miracle otherwise, he would have lost his job and the benefits that came with it, including the health care for Bella. Unfortunately, that meant that for the second time, he was driving up toward Will's house with the intent to arrest him. 

The dogs, he expected. The whiskey, he expected. 

But the man who looked almost identical to Will with slightly greying hair and a full beard? He did not expect him. 

The team, including Price and Zeller, entered the house and eventually cleared it. The other man stood in the living room, glaring Jack down with a stare so harsh, it could almost have come from Jack himself. He had perfected that look when he took over a unit in the FBI. Sometimes it was the only way to break people. Eventually, he heard that the house was clear, no sign of Will anywhere, and an upstairs that was clearly being used likely by the man in front of him. 

It became more and more clear that the man was growing more irate with their presence, mimicking the anger that Jack had only seen once from Will.

After a moment, the man spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" 


	19. Chapter 19

_Hannibal. I need help. They found me. I didn't know what to do. Please call me back._

* * *

Jack sat in silence, staring at the man across from him. The other man exuded anger since they first crossed paths in Will's living room and beyond the other's first blunt statement, there was nothing more spoken between them. He was certain that the man didn't say anything else on the drive to Quantico either, but Jack could feel the other's anger radiating from the car behind Jack's SUV. The other man had taken Will's car seeing as how Will had left it behind as he ran. It would slow him down, enough that Jack hoped maybe he could catch him. Assuming the other man was of any help which would require him to talk. He wasn't. 

It gave him a chance to study the silent man across from him. 

The man looked almost identical to Will except for the flecks of grey peppered through his hair and a beard that Jack knew Will didn't have. Will somehow was always sporting the beginnings of a beard, but his facial hair never grew out enough to be the beard on the man across from him. Also unlike Will, this man's anger was palpable in a way that Jack had only seen a few times previously. Nothing like Will's anger. He was certain Will could grow angry, even terrifyingly so, but Will was much more of a silent predator, watching closely with its tail flicking until it grew interested enough to join. Or maybe that was Hannibal. 

Jack's wariness of Will came with the strange crossing of Will and Hannibal in his mind. 

He wasn't certain he knew Will Graham anymore, or that he had ever known him at all. The man across from him wasn't doing anything to stamp out the suspicion within him. If anything, the man's presence was enough to inflame it more. 

Based on the man's looks, his relative age, and seeming protectiveness he had for Jack's wayward profiler, he was certain the man across from him was none other than Will Graham's father. 

And that was a curious thing. He was certain Will's father was dead. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Will had never stated plainly that his father was dead. Instead, he had given vague answers that only ever lead people to assume that his father was dead and Will never bothered to correct them. Jack couldn't help but try to think of reasons, good reasons, why Will would want to keep people from knowing that his father existed and the only logical one that Jack could come up with was this moment, right now. Will's father had been dragged into his life and was left to play defense while Will went running. 

"We didn't get a chance to properly introduce ourselves," Jack said, hoping that something other than the silent seething of the man across the room would start. "I'm Jack Crawford. I'm the head of the Behavioral Science Until here at the FBI." 

"Ah," The other man said. "That makes you Will's boss then." 

"Yes and no. Will is a consultant. He works with me, not for me."

"Worked," The other corrected. Jack raised an eyebrow. "The way I heard it," The other continued. "Will was suspended, pending an investigation." 

"You seem to know a lot about Will," Jack began but the other snorted. 

"I ought to. I raised him." 

"You're his father." Jack had been right.

"Beau." 

"Beau," Jack repeated. "Do you know where your son is?"

Beau shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know." 

"You know that lying to me is a crime," Jack said. The other rolled his eyes.

"He went out, didn't come back." He shrugged again. "Couldn't tell you where he went." 

Jack was certain that was a lie, but he couldn't prove it one way or another. What parent wouldn't lie to protect their child? Even if that child was about to be arrested for murder. But perhaps Beau didn't know that. 

"Do you know what your son was being investigated for?" Jack asked, hoping to prod him from a different direction. "He killed a man." Jack began pulling pictures from the file he had thought to bring with him at the last minute before joining Beau in the interrogation room. Randall Tier was the subject of those pictures and the way his body had been taken apart and displayed on the cave bear bones. "Took apart his body. Mounted him for the world to see." He set picture after picture in front of Beau who glanced at them and then back up at Jack. 

"How do you know it was Will?" 

"He told me he did it." 

"Did he say why?" Beau asked his voice the same nearly monotonous tone it had been the whole time. 

"He said it was self-defense." 

"Then it was self-defense," Beau stated. 

"Does this look like self-defense?" Jack asked as he picked up a wide shot of the display Will had left for him to find. It was to lure Hannibal, Will had said. To make Hannibal trust him. To make him feel safe enough to slip up. But the only person he had any evidence against was Will. Not Hannibal Lecter.

Beau blinked at him. "Self-defense can take many forms. Last I heard you all don't persecute that." 

"This was not self-defense." Jack insisted. 

"Why not?" Beau asked. "Because you know Will so well? Because you raised him? Because you saw the scared little boy who was so afraid of himself and no matter what you did, you knew you weren't enough to help him? Because you know the man he grew up to be?" Beau had leaned forward during his questions, ignoring the pictures on the table in favor of staring Jack down with every question. "No. You don't. Because I raised him. I am his father. And for Will, this very well could have been self-defense." 

"You want to protect your son," Jack said, hoping to placate the very angry and protective father across from him. "But I just want to make sure Will is safe. He may be a danger to himself or others. He's not in his right mind right now. He's been influenced by someone who could make him do some very bad things. I just want to help him." 

"You mean Hannibal." Beau's tone dropped back into monotone as Jack began to slowly shift the subject.

"You know about Hannibal." 

The other slumped back into his chair again. "Lithuanian, psychiatrist. Will accused him of being the Chesapeake Ripper."

"I think Will was right." Jack pulled out another picture and he was thankful that he had the foresight to lump all of the pictures together. He set it on the table between them knowing that when Beau Graham looked down, he would be greeted by a severed arm. Next, he put down a picture of Miriam Lass, left arm missing, and staring blankly ahead of her. "I sent another after the Ripper once. He took her arm. Used it to taunt me. Then left her in a well for me to find. She couldn't remember anything except just enough to frame another man."

"So you think," Beau began as though he were trying to put all the pieces together. "That Hannibal, the European that is only ever shown in three-piece suits in pictures, kidnapped your-" He waved his hand at Miriam's picture. "Friend and messed with her mind for some amount of time all with the plan of framin' another and then turned around and did it to Will?" 

"Essentially." 

"I think you're giving one man too much credit. Doesn't he have a practice or somethin'? I doubt he's keeled over from exhaustion."

Beau did have a point. But Jack had already been pointed in the wrong direction once, by Frederick Chilton of all people, and as a result, he was the one who was imprisoned rather than Hannibal. Will seemed to be thinking his clearest in BSHCI, stating adamantly that the person they should look at was Hannibal. So much so that Jack had been willing to start and off the books investigation into Hannibal, one that almost cost him his job. He doubted Will now, but he didn't doubt that Will's consistent and adamant declarations were genuine before he was once again in Hannibal's grasp. Maybe by bringing Will and Hannibal in, Will could be free from his influence and perhaps return to the man he once knew. 

But another thing that Beau said came to Jack's mind. 

_Because you know the man he grew up to be?_

What if Will's mask had been there all along, and Jack had only ever seen what Will wanted him to see?

Everything about Will made him question him and his father wasn't helping him find answers. 

"Beau," He began again. "I just want to help Will." 

Beau eyed him warily as though he wasn't certain about Jack at all, which he couldn't fault the other for thinking. 

"I don't want any harm to come to your son." 

Beau's eyes narrowed. "The last person I'd trust with my son's safety is you. If you're right that Hannibal is who you say he is, then it was you who sent Will into his claws. It was you who endangered my son in the first place. Even if I did know where he was, you are the last person I'd tell." Beau leaned back and crossed his arms. "You have no proof that I've done anythin' wrong besides standin' in my son's living room. I don't think I need to say anymore and I'd like to leave now." 

Jack opened his mouth to say more — to hopefully try to coax Beau into saying anything helpful — when his phone rang.

"Excuse me," He said, partially hoping that the time alone would soften the other's resolve. 

He stepped from the room and shut the door behind him with a soft click before answering his phone.

"Crawford." 

"Mr. Crawford, my name is Dr. Benedict. I'm an emergency room doctor-" Jack's heart skipped a beat wondering if this was a call for Bella. He was so focused on his worry that momentarily, he forgot to listen to the rest of the call, not hearing the hospital at first. "I'm calling on behalf of Alana Bloom. We've tried reaching out to her emergency contact but they're too far away to come to the ER. You're listed as an alternative."

 _Oh god_.

He had forgotten that months ago, the department had everyone who worked in or consulted with the BAU sign forms stating their emergency contacts should the worst happen on a case. Jack had been somewhere on the list for everyone in the BAU including Will and Alana. 

"Yes. I'm sorry." He said, trying to straighten his thoughts. "What about her?" 

"Miss Bloom-"

"Doctor," Jack corrected immediately. 

"Right. Doctor Bloom," The other doctor amended. "Was seriously injured tonight. Could you possibly come in to discuss her condition? There's not much I can give out over the phone except that it's urgent." 

"Of course," Jack answered. 

He hung up the phone, taking a deep breath as Price and Zeller stepped out of the observation room. 

"Leave him there."

"He was right," Price protested. "He hasn't done anything wrong. We can't hold him."

"We can," Jack insisted instead. "For 48 hours without charging him. After that, we'll have to let him go. Let him stay there and see if he gets any more helpful. In the meantime, I need to get to the hospital."

* * *

_"Ah, Doctor Bloom." Frederick greeted._

_Alana was not much different outwardly compared to the last time he had seen her. She had a fire in her eyes that was aimed at her when they were last in each other's presence, though not nearly as much as the time before when he thought she might physically attack him for his mishandling of Abel Gideon. The next time he had seen her also involved Abel Gideon and it wasn't long after that when Gideon vanished from the infirmary._

_Perhaps he should have considered sooner that Doctor Alana Bloom knew more than she had let on. Frederick was aware that she had been Hannibal's alibi once after the very same dinner party in which Frederick refused to eat the food._

_But looking at Alana now, and the way her face was drawn, told him that this visit was likely something in tandem with Jack Crawford's visit only a day earlier. Something was going on just outside his reach. With the right pressure, he could easily speed things along for himself. Will was supposedly hunting Hannibal with vengeance in his heart, or at least he had been the last time Frederick saw him when he exited the very hospital in which he was now a patient. But given the tone of Jack's visit, he supposed Will must have gone wayward once again. That likely propelled Alana's visit._

_"How can I help you?" He asked, settling into the less than comfortable chair._

_"I'm not certain you can, but seeing as you're the only person I know I can turn to, here I am."_

_He feigned shock. "Dr. Bloom, I am touched. I didn't think you liked me."_

_"I don't." She quipped._ _He smirked. "But I know your motives," She continued. "Which makes you more predictable."_

_"More predictable than whom?" Frederick asked. "Will Graham? Hannibal Lecter?" He paused and then added for good measure: "Jack Crawford?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Poor Dr. Bloom." This time he feigned pity, but he knew she would see through it. He wanted her to. He wasn't trying very hard. "Left out of the 'all-boys club?'"_

_"You were too," She muttered back._

_He tapped his knuckles on the table between them. "That I was. Which is why you are here."_

_"They're hiding things from me. Jack, Will, Hannibal. I want to know what."  
_

_Frederick smirked again. "And so here you are. Hoping that I will have some way to help you."_

_"If you don't, then I suppose I should leave." She moved to stand, but he couldn't have that. She probably knew that too, but he didn't care. He was so popular these days. He wanted to keep it that way._

_"I didn't say that."_

_Alana lowered herself into the chair once more, her bright blue eyes showing her victory. "Well?"_

_He sighed. "I can't speak for dear Will," He began. "But I do know that Jack also came here. Asking similar questions."_

_"And what did Jack have to say?" She asked though it came out as more of a demand._

_"Oh, nothing too surprising. I would guess he and Will were planning on luring Hannibal into some trap." He waved his hand flippantly. "Suppose something went wrong there." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "But Hannibal..." He trailed off and that caught her attention once more. "If you want to best Hannibal Lecter without him looking at you, you will have to be smart. Use the knowledge you have that he doesn't know you do. It would probably work for Jack too."_

_"You think by pretending I don't know something, I could get one of them to tell me themselves."_

_Frederick shrugged. "Play the right part and they'd want to."_

_"But I don't have anything," She huffed. "All I know is your speculation."_

_"True." Frederick protracted the word on purpose, hoping to catch Alana's attention with it._

_It was quite fortuitous that she had come to him rather him having to reach out to her. After Jack's arrival the day before, he began thinking. No matter what, whatever Will was doing would probably spring him from the trap Hannibal had caught him in. One way or another. Either Will had gone so far into his own darkness that he and Hannibal would likely run off to wherever leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Or, less likely, Will would actually fulfill his vengeance and betrayal filled thoughts and Hannibal would take Frederick's place here at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane._

_Either way, things would work out for him._

_All he needed was to give a little push._

_And here was Alana, ready to be pushed._

_"You have an idea," Alana said bluntly._

_Frederick smiled as best he could, given the fact that part of his face would never move normally again. "You come from money Alana. Money is power. If you want to find something, there's nothing a little cash wouldn't propel from even the most secretive of person. No one's secrets are safe when money is involved." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You have the means."_

_He paused, searching her eyes._

_"Use it."_


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

Jack arrived at the hospital splattered with rain. It was easy enough to find Alana, stopping at the front desk before he was directed to the emergency room. The doctor he had spoken to on the phone greeted him as he arrived, the two of them walking in tandem toward the room where Alana was currently in. 

"She's stable for now," The doctor said. "But she's sustained severe injuries. She's lucky to be alive." They moved through what Jack thought was a maze with all the twisting and turning they did but the doctor must be used to it. "EMTs think she was thrown from a window. She was still conscious on the scene but has been drifting in and out of consciousness here. We're moving her to the ICU once a bed opens up." 

"How bad is it?" Jack asked, worry building in his gut. 

"She's sustained some major contusion, a concussion, and it looks like several of her vertebrae were broken on impact. We've stabilized her pelvis which will need stabilizing for the foreseeable future. Some marrow got into her blood too. She might not be the person you remember." They stopped outside a room and Jack could barely glance a very banged up Alana through the door. 

"Will she live?" He asked softly. 

"I don't know." The doctor answered. "She was lucky to have made it this far. ICU will have a better idea of how to care for her. But my best guess, the next 48 hours are critical. With the amount of trauma her spine and head sustained, these next few hours will be the worst of it. If she survives, her chances might increase. She's breathing on her own which is a good sign and while she's been in and out of consciousness, she can be roused. But she could still take a turn." The doctor sighed. "I recommend contacting her family." He looked over at the door. "You can see her for a moment, but I don't want to put too much stress on her."

"Of course," Jack said. 

Hopefully, if Alana remembered just enough, he wouldn't have to be here for long. 

Alana was a well-liked person, adored by most who saw her. The only time Jack had ever heard of someone wanting to hurt her was Abel Gideon who had been on a hunt for every psychiatrist he had come across. Frederick Chilton was the only one who came in contact with Gideon and lived. Will had stopped Gideon soon enough to prevent any harm from coming to her. And yet harm came, though not by Abel Gideon. Jack suspected it was Hannibal. He would only need Alana to say his name and it would be enough. An eye witness to his crimes and Jack could have any judge sign off on a search warrant. Though part of him knew Alana was an unreliable witness given the amount of trauma she sustained, something was better than nothing. He just needed something, anything, to push him in the right direction. 

Jack nodded to the doctor before he walked away. Meanwhile, he readied himself to enter the room. He would have to be careful, gentle, but he assumed that Alana of all people would be cooperative. She was starting to see who Hannibal really was and if he did this, she wouldn't be blind to him any longer. 

He opened the door and the light in the room flicked on. 

Jack could barely make out the traces of blood around Alana's mouth, blood that hadn't been wiped away from her fall. She had bruises along her arms and legs, both of which were exposed to the air. She only wore a gown that it had likely taken some careful maneuvering to dress her in. But her clothes would have been restricting, so the gown it was. He thought that it likely covered more bruises which part of him was grateful he didn't see. It was because of him that she was here in the first place. 

Beau Graham had been right. It was Jack, and partially Alana, who had pushed Will toward Hannibal. Together, they started the cascade of events that landed Alana in this emergency room. He should have seen it sooner, he should have known sooner. But Hannibal had blinded everyone. And the one person who wasn't blind to him any longer was now seemingly on his side and perhaps even by his side. 

He didn't think that Will had enough of a head start to have joined Hannibal when Alana was injured, but they were certainly together now. He would have to read the police report later, but he could guess what had happened. 

Alana had found Hannibal, she threatened to expose him, Hannibal fought back, Alana went out a window and Hannibal, thinking her dead, left her there because if she wasn't dead yet, she would be soon. 

Jack didn't reach for her, not wanting to hurt her as he stood next to her bed. 

"Alana?" He asked quietly. 

Her eyes flicked open. 

"J-Jack," Her voice was weak and briefly, she tried to turn her head toward him and winced. 

"Don't move." He said quietly, raising his hand as though to stop her and then thinking better of it. "Can you tell me what happened?" 

"Used- used a PI. Cost a small fortune." She breathed, every word sounding painful to push outward. "Wanted answers." Her eyelids fluttered for a moment and Jack thought she might slip back into unconsciousness. Eventually, she took a deep, wheezing breath. Jack wondered if her lung had been punctured by a rib from her fall when her eyes opened again, watery blue focusing on him. "A house. On a cliff. She's alive." 

"Who's alive?" Jack asked, leaning forward as Alana's voice became quieter. 

"Abigail."

* * *

Beau had spent 48 hours in FBI custody and ultimately, it had been useless for the FBI. 

All that they had managed to accomplish was making Beau angrier at jack Crawford. He knew who Jack Crawford was previously from the articles surrounding Will and subsequently his trial. He had also known who Miriam Lass was Jack pulled out a picture. Freddie Lounds, whoever she was, was quite the investigative though invasive reporter. He understood why Will had wanted to keep Beau away from it all. No doubt Beau would have been hounded by Freddie Lounds the moment she realized who Beau was. And he would have been surprised that Freddie wasn't on him at the moment if he hadn't turned on the TV the moment he returned to Will's house. 

He had the news on in the background while he cleaned up the mess the poor dogs had made in his absence. Unfortunately, he didn't know anyone who could watch Will's dogs while he was detained. But he cleaned up, watered, and fed them, and eventually let them outside as he had seen Will do numerous times. Nothing exciting came on the news while he was dealing with the dogs until he was standing outside the front door, having turned the TV up enough that he could hear it outside. 

"The FBI is asking for the public's help in finding these two men." Beau walked through the door just in time to see images of Will and Hannibal appear on the screen. "Both men are wanted for questioning in regards to several murders including journalist Freddie Lounds whose body was discovered yesterday at Dr. Lecter's Baltimore house. The FBI warns the public not to approach these men but to call the tip line immediately as both men are considered extremely dangerous." 

Beau didn't even notice the sounds of a car rolling up the driveway as the tip line phone number appeared on the screen.

He was glad he wasn't aware of where Will had gone, because at any moment now, he was certain Jack Crawford would return. 

Never before had he wanted to punch someone as much as he wanted to with Crawford. 

"Will?" A voice called and Beau turned. 

A girl was approaching him, likely no older than 18. She had long brown hair and bright brown eyes that seemed to shine in the midday light. She was curled in on herself as he turned to look at her, pausing in her tracks.

And Beau had seen her before. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I thought you were someone else. Is Will here?" 

Beau shook his head. "Will's gone." The girl swore under her breath. "You're Abigail Hobbs. One of the people Will was accused of killin'." Her eyes returned to his, studying him carefully. Beau began to put the pieces together, albeit slower than he knew his son would have. "Hannibal." He growled after a moment. 

Between Crawford and Hannibal, if Will really had gone insane, Beau wouldn't blame him. 

The girl, Abigail, was quiet for a long moment. 

"Come in," He said after a moment. But when she refused to move, Beau continued. "Will's my son."

That seemed to be enough to propel her forward as she started to move toward the house, patting the dogs as she went. It was obvious she had met them before, if by nothing more than their eager responsiveness to her touches, and Beau once again marveled at Will's protectiveness over Hannibal. Enough that he had let his own father believe the man he loved had killed a girl barely out of her youth, just to frame Will. 

Beau stood aside so she could enter the house. As she moved into the living room, the dogs followed, eventually finding their way to their beds. At least the ones that could be salvaged. 

He hadn't talked to Will about what would happen with his dogs. He didn't know what to do with them and unlike Will, he couldn't take care of this many dogs. He had one, certainly, and could probably take a couple more. 

"I'm surprised he left Winston. Hannibal said Winston was his favorite." Abigail patted the brown dog who looked back toward the door as though Will was right behind them. 

"He didn't have a choice. And travelin' with a dog would have been conspicuous." 

"So they left." She huffed. 

"Do you know if Will found Hannibal?" Beau asked. 

Abigail shrugged. "I don't know anything. I called Hannibal but he didn't answer. When I tried to go to his house, there were cops everywhere. The whole road was blocked off." She looked around Will's house. "I didn't know where else to go." 

Beau ran his hand through his hair. He knew he would have to protect Will after he was gone. People, especially Jack Crawford, would be looking for him. But he didn't expect it to be this active. He didn't know what he could tell this girl, or what he could do to continue to protect his son. 

"He was probably on the plane then." Abigail continued, rubbing her forehead. 

"Will had a ticket," Beau began and Abigail seemed to remember something. She pulled a ticket out of her own pocket. It was crinkled around the edges likely from water. But it looked identical to the one Beau had seen previously. 

"Hannibal had a plan," She started and he raised his hands to stop her. 

"No, don't tell me anythin'. I don't wanna know. The more I know, the worse it is." 

She nodded. "All I was going to say is that if Hannibal thought Will was in trouble, he would've abandoned everything." 

It was Beau's turn to nod. "Yeah." He moved through the living room, sitting in the chair he had previously. He was exhausted, having not slept in days between the FBI and worrying about his son. There was no chance he would sleep still though, not knowing what had happened to Will.

He had known that there was a chance, quite a large one, that when he said goodbye to Will, it would be for good. 

And only now did reality fully sink in.

He had given up his own chance to see his son ever again and entrusted him to Hannibal for one simple reason. 

"Hannibal loves him," Beau said, running his hands over his face. 

"Will is all he ever talks about." Abigail sat down in one of the other chairs. "At first I couldn't stand Will. He terrified me." She folded her hands in front of her. "But then I found out he was sick." She waved her hand at her head. "Encephalitis. And when Hannibal talked about him, it was so loving. He gushed about Will and I didn't think Hannibal was capable of gushing. Every other word out of his mouth was Will." She smiled slightly. "I guess it made me like Will too. And then Hannibal told me that he wanted me and Will to be together again. So, he sent me here. I didn't even know Hannibal would be here." She looked toward the kitchen, a fond memory evident in her eyes. "He was so happy to see me. I don't think I've ever been hugged that hard." 

Abigail shook her head, adjusting in the chair. "I don't think I gave Will a chance at first. Not really. Part of me hated him."

Beau thought back to what Jack had said about Miriam Lass and how Hannibal had messed with her mind. While Beau knew there was very little that could be done to Will, especially not now that he had embraced his darkness, this girl was still at risk for the same thing. If it hadn't happened already. 

Will could take care of himself and though their relationship struck Beau as codependent, he was certain that Will and Hannibal were likely the best for each other just as much as the worst. 

But this girl didn't need to be a part of it. 

"You don't have to stay you know," He said quietly. "They're gone. You can do whatever you want now." 

"I have to leave." She muttered bitterly. "They know I'm alive."

"Who does?" Beau asked. 

"The FBI probably." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Dr. Bloom found me. I don't know how. But she seemed so surprised to see me. I panicked and she followed me. I didn't know what else to do. I pushed her out a window." The words came out rushed and Beau immediately wished he hadn't heard them. 

He was keeping Will and Hannibal's secrets, though he kept Hannibal's for Will, and now he was given the choice as to whether or not to keep this girl's too. 

"Do you have somewhere to go?" He asked after a long moment. "The FBI will come back here, I know it." 

"I'm supposed to be starting university in two weeks. I have an apartment but I didn't expect to be using it yet." 

"Is it out of the country?"

She nodded. 

"Then go. You have somewhere to go. You have a way to get there. Do you have money?"

She nodded. 

Beau sighed to himself. Would he ever stop saying goodbye? He'd lost his son and now he sitting across from the girl who, if he had followed Hannibal's train of thought, was effectively his granddaughter. And he couldn't know her. He would have to forget she existed the moment she left the house. 

"I think you can make it to the airport without bein' seen," Beau said, looking over at the TV. "There's been no news of you. Maybe in the chaos, the FBI hasn't had the chance to tell the public you're alive." He stood and walked toward the door, grasping one of his son's spare jackets. "You take your ticket, go to an airport far from here. Don't use one in Virginia or Maryland. Go to New York or Philadelphia. Somewhere you can hide in plain sight. Get on the plane, go where you need to, and don't look back." He offered her the jacket. 

She nodded, grasping it in her hand. "Um," She looked uncomfortable. "If I see Will again, is there something you want me to tell him?"

Beau shook his head. "I've said what I needed to say. I never expected to have this chance with my son. The last few weeks have been the best of my life. But he needs to be safe. Can't be worrying about dear old dad." He resisted the urge to say the one thing he had never told Will while he had seen him. His son had enough on his plate. "He knows I love him," Beau said instead. "That's enough." 

Abigail nodded. Beau looked toward the kitchen. 

"Food for the road? There isn't much, but it will be something." 

"Thank you," She said softly. 

A few minutes later, she was off with what food Beau could scrounge together. He watched the car vanish along the road before turning back into the house and falling unceremoniously onto the familiar chair. 

The program had changed from the news, but he knew it would be back later, so he didn't bother changing the channel. 

_Is there anything you want me to tell him?_

_You're not gonna stop. You're not gonna worry about me. You're gonna run. You're gonna get far out of the reach of the law and you're not gonna look back._

_I raised you. I know you better than anyone._

_Hate to break it to you, but that's love kiddo._

Beau buried his face in his hands, the previous days catching up to him. 

The only comfort he had was knowing that wherever he went, Will would be with someone who loved him. Someone who looked at him as though he'd hung the moon. Someone who would protect him. Someone who could do what Beau couldn't anymore. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked over the email he had received while in FBI custody. 

It wasn't from Will, but rather from his doctor, wanting to know when he would come back in for an evaluation. Wanting to know how effective his treatment was. 

_I never expected to have this chance with my son. The last few weeks have been the best of my life._

Beau's body began to ache, far worse than the ache had grown accustomed to over the last year. He didn't tell Will about his diagnosis and had decided against it the moment he saw the drawn look on his son's face. 

Will was safe. And he would be happy. 

Beau had told him to not look back. And he certainly hoped that Will would listen. 

He didn't need to see his father die anyway. 

Beau finally let his anguish from saying goodbye to his only son catch up with him. 

He hung his head, his hands clasped behind his neck, and cried. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, that's not the last we'll see of Beau Graham.

Will should have been surprised that his flight sent him straight to Palermo. But he wasn't. He wasn't surprised at all to step out into the world once more, finding weather just slightly warmer than Virginia. He hadn't slept on the flight, looking over his shoulder every other second as though Jack Crawford or some other FBI agent might materialize behind him. But no one did. He had managed one call before he abandoned his phone, telling Hannibal that they had come for him. 

Hannibal promised that he would find him. 

And of course, Hannibal as always, went the extra mile when it came to preparedness. Will had opened his ticket to find not only the passport that he would use but a note to find a drop box at a secure, private location with clothes and some extra money for him. It was likely what Hannibal would call petty cash, though it would have been enough to pay his bills for six months along with food and the dogs' needs. He found that he smiled to himself when he was given the suitcase. A man traveling to a different country without a suitcase would look suspicious, but it seemed Hannibal had thought ahead for him. 

That meant though that Will was dressed how Hannibal wanted him dressed. Most of the outfits were suits or some combination of nice shirts and dress slacks that put even his fanciest attire to shame. Will took a taxi to a hotel he could find that was relatively cheap and was within walking distance to the Norman Chapel.

That had been two weeks ago. 

For the first week, Will had spent a majority of it in the hotel, not daring to venture out. He had managed to find some news source that alerted him to the goings-on back home and only left once to find a place to purchase a disposable phone. He watched as he and Hannibal slowly made their way up the list of the FBI's Most Wanted but he couldn't help but find it comforting. If Hannibal was wanted, he wasn't captured yet. Which meant they would be together again soon enough. He watched as Freddie Lounds's body had been discovered, neither Hannibal nor Will having a chance to dispose of it. And very briefly, he caught wind of speculation that Abigail Hobbs was still alive after Alana had been thrown from a window at a house that Will didn't even know Hannibal owned. 

By the second week, Frederick Chilton was released from BSHCI and officially acquitted. The Ripper investigation had shifted formally to Hannibal who was wanted on several accounts of murder. Suspicion flew around Will too, though the only murder they could truly pin on him was Randall Tier. At this point, Will was tired of the news which told him nothing and he decided to venture out of the hotel room he had basically sequestered himself in.

The first day, he walked toward Norman Chapel but didn't go in. 

The second day, he sat near it, watching people come and go, waiting for one to be Hannibal. 

It felt strange sitting so close to a building he had only seen in pictures and the safety of his own mind. He felt as though for once he was literally standing at the entrance to Hannibal's mind and without Hannibal there, he found he couldn't go in. It was far lonelier seeing the building rise above him when Hannibal wasn't there to share it with him. He wanted nothing more than to enter, to find a place he knew so well without ever seeing it. But without Hannibal, it felt lonely. He was lonely. 

That ache he had experienced when he went to Louisiana was back a hundredfold, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. He had once called Hannibal out for fostering co-dependency. But they had fostered it so completely that being without Hannibal was torture. 

This would be how Jack Crawford ultimately punished them if they were caught. They would be apart, aching for their other halves so terribly that Will hadn't been able to eat, truly eat, for the week and a half he had been in Palermo. 

By the fifth day, he finally forced himself to step inside. 

The building was oddly familiar when he stepped inside, so much that it released some of the tension that ached so terribly in his chest. He found a seat, watching the crowd move around him. He had been here in his mind before, but there had been no crowd. Only Hannibal pulsing at the edge of his mind. 

He was going insane without him. 

It was a strange, static-like state, where he didn't truly want to do anything. He just wanted to wait. He wanted Hannibal to make good on his promise, as he knew he would. 

Going to look for Hannibal wouldn't do anything. They would miss each other. Hannibal had sent him to Palermo for a reason, and so he would stay. 

By the sixth day, he couldn't eat anymore. 

By the seventh, the tension in his chest was unbearable. 

But as the third week began, he had the strangest feeling. 

It propelled him from his bed, walking through the door and toward the Norman Chapel. He felt as though he was being pulled along by something, someone. He was roped and dragged until he reached the steps, finding the same thrumming crowd he was used to. But something was different. There was another face in this crowd, a particular face. Not the same faceless people that Will had ignored for days now, but someone he so desperately wanted to see. The ache in his chest was nearly crippling now, as though his heart was being ripped from the confines of his rib cage for him to see. 

Someone lit a candle to his right. 

Saints stared down at him. 

The crowd thrummed around him. 

The hardest part about being away from Hannibal, amongst everything else, revealed itself to Will. Hannibal could dull the rest of the world to him. He was never overwhelmed in a bad way when Hannibal was around. It was the difference between standing near a fire for warmth and burning alive. There were too many people. Too many sights. Too many noises that ran into his warm drums like knives, scrapping at his very brain. He had forgotten about this part. About what it was like to live a life before Hannibal Lecter. He had avoided people for this very reason. He could see them, see into them, feel their awe and their wonder as well as their confusion when they brushed past Will, standing just behind the chairs. They wondered what he was doing there, why he was standing so still. His head felt like it was being pressed again, as though a clamp had grasped his brain and was squeezing. 

Squeezing. 

Squeezing. 

He turned, needing to leave. 

And then everything abated. 

Hannibal.

The other looked just as terrible as he felt, bags under his eyes and his face drawn in a way that Will had never seen before. The ache around his heart stopped and Will wasn't even certain the organ was in his chest anymore. It was in Hannibal's hands, pulsing and alive once more. 

Will stepped forward carefully, wondering for a moment if the other was an apparition. Many had come to the chapel searching for their god and unwittingly, so had Will. But he knew apparitions weren't warm. Hannibal was careful, gentle, as he pulled Will from the crowd and outside into the sun. A sun which he felt for the first time since arriving.

"I found you," Hannibal whispered as they tucked against each other. "You've tried so hard to stay out of the minds of others, and yet I find you at the entrance to mine, feeling for the latch." 

He could feel though, despite Hannibal's calm words, just how much the other had not been calm until their eyes met in the crowd. He could feel Hannibal's body unwinding against his, the way they folded together as they had so many times before. 

"I apologize for the delay," Hannibal's voice lacked its usual confidence. "I couldn't risk leading them to you." 

"Were you followed?" 

"No," The other whispered, pressing his cheek against Will's. "But I was attempting to be careful." 

He could almost hear the rest of that sentence as though Hannibal spoke it aloud. He had been trying to be careful and it had taken every ounce of his restraint not to come to Will immediately. He tortured them both in hopes that it might make them, Will, safer. 

After a moment, they were moving again, and Will found himself dragging Hannibal back to the hotel he had been staying in. Except whereas before it was dull and simple, it was now filled with life. Hannibal was his life. The two of them stayed close to each other, their hands or shoulders brushing with every movement until they found their way into the bed. Hannibal's grip on him was incredibly tight, almost too tight, but Will wouldn't have it any other way.

He and Hannibal were tangled together, pressed so tightly that he could feel every flex of the other's body. They were only there for a moment when he felt something wet fall over his nose. Hannibal was crying. He knew the other was much more comfortable with his emotions than Will was and he had even heard that Hannibal had cried once after Will's attempt on his life by proxy. But he had never cried around Will before. And it only made Will love him more. 

"I've missed you terribly," The other whispered. 

"I don't think missed is the appropriate term," Will whispered back. "Ache." 

He didn't need Hannibal to say what he was thinking next, he already knew the statement and his own answer. A variation of the same phrase that permeated every aspect of their relationship. Their desire to be close, to be known, to be seen, and to never let that go. 

So, instead, he took the words from Hannibal, offering it in his own voice instead. "Stay with me." 

"Forever, Will." 

The next week was spent mostly in bed. They would eat, sleep, and freshen themselves up, but afterward, they would always return to the other's embrace. Will was often pillowed on Hannibal's chest, their hands roaming over familiar curves and muscles as they watched the news flicker past them. No sightings of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Rumors of Abigail Hobbs being alive abounded. No updates on Alana Bloom. No updates on the investigation. 

By the time the third week ended, Will felt like himself once more. 

And the night at the start of the fourth week began, finally, in a way that was so familiar. 

Will had been thinking of home, mostly of his father in truth, when his home returned to him. Hannibal entered the room with a pile of food. Will was surprised at how long Hannibal had managed without cooking a meal for himself, though knowing Hannibal he had more than likely slipped into the kitchen to cook the food he now set on the table before Will. The two of them ate in companionable silence, neither needing to say anything for everything to be said. Their legs were stretched under the table and tangled together. They made their way through dinner until Hannibal pushed a dessert in front of them. It was a relatively simple dessert that looked mostly like liquid chocolate. 

"Sanguinaccio dolce." Hannibal lifted a spoonful of the dessert, making certain that it wouldn't drip, before offering it to Will. "A favorite of mine." 

Will hummed his approval at the dessert, understanding completely why Hannibal favored the series of flavors that danced across his palate. 

"Traditionally made with pig's blood." Hannibal continued as he pulled the spoon back past Will's lips. 

"Still made with pig's blood," Will answered, grasping the spoon from Hannibal's grip and returning the favor. But he was certain Hannibal didn't need the dessert at all to be satisfied as he looked at Will as though he was the nourishment. 

Will had been right, it seemed, when he guessed that Hannibal had taken to the kitchen himself. For a moment, he wondered who had provided the ingredient for their meal, but he found he didn't care. 

He hadn't been as careful as Hannibal though, as a bit of the dessert lingered on the other's lip. Before the other's tongue could find it, however, Will leaned forward, letting his own tongue swipe along Hannibal's lip. The other's pupils were blown wide as he pulled back, smiling slightly to himself. 

"I think that is the best way to eat dessert." 

"Do you?" Hannibal asked, his voice thick. 

Will spun the spoon in his fingers, taking some of the dessert and rather purposefully placing a glob on his wrist. "See for yourself." 

Hannibal's eyes never left his as he leaned forward, grasping Will's wrist and raising it to his mouth. He couldn't stop the moan at the feeling of the other's tongue roaming over his skin. They hadn't done anything over the last week besides holding each other, the two of them clinging as though they were the source of the other's oxygen. But they had breathed their fill now and with the need for breath satisfied, other needs began to take its place. 

Hannibal sucked on his wrist long after the dessert must have been gone, his amber eyes finding Will's so easily. Eventually, Hannibal began to move up Will's arm, the dessert all but forgotten by him, but Will wasn't forgetting that easily. He grasped the abandoned spoon, catching Hannibal's attention as he did. He maneuvered himself, shifting off his own chair and onto Hannibal's lap, straddling him. Hannibal's arms were around him immediately as Will used his free hand to tug gently at Hannibal's hair turning the man's head to one side. Hannibal obeyed his gentle movements but he could feel the other's pulse quickening due to their close proximity. Will, with some awkward angling, was able to scoop another spoonful of the dessert, this time depositing it on Hannibal's neck. The other moaned slightly, especially once the spoon was abandoned once more and Will's mouth was on him, licking and sucking the dessert off Hannibal's pulse point. Just as Hannibal had, he stayed there long after the dessert was cleaned off him. 

Their bodies ground together as Will focused his attentions on the rest of Hannibal's neck, kissing down and then back up toward his jaw. Hannibal busied himself by pushing the collar of Will's shirt aside to kiss his shoulder. 

After a moment, Will discarded his shirt, shifting back only long enough to tear it off himself and then press back against Hannibal. The other's hands were warm and familiar against his back, grounding in a way that Will had never felt before. Normally, with Hannibal, part of him felt he could fly. 

But he had forgotten somewhere along the way just how much Hannibal was his support too. 

Their mouths found each other's, tongues exploring and lips re-memorizing familiar territory. His legs wrapped around Hannibal automatically as the other stood, pushing off the chair and toward the bed. They collapsed in a heap, the two of them throwing sheets and pillows to the side in a desperate attempt to be closer. 

Will's hands tore at the other's clothes and eventually, finally, they were bare to each other. 

Hannibal's hands were everywhere, but his lips stayed on Will's. Will was shaking already as he pressed closer to Hannibal, needing more. Needing everything. Needing Hannibal. 

The other's hand wrapped around one of his thighs, dragging it over his hip and pressing them closer. Will shifted his hips upward, forcing their untouched cocks to brush. It wasn't about the sex, not really. It was about the closeness. And how much closer they needed to be. 

It was a far cry from the way they had begun, from Will trying to convince himself that he could have a physical relationship with Hannibal without his own emotions getting in the way. How far he had come. From clinging to Hannibal so he could pretend that just for a moment that his mind wasn't an issue, to clinging to everything they had built between them. From escaping the world to escaping to each other. From hatred and betrayal and revenge to love. 

"I love you," He whispered, finding the words echoed from Hannibal's lips at the exact same time. 

They rolled in tandem as Hannibal grabbed the lube he had purchased at some point, though Will didn't quite know when. 

He took the lube from Hannibal's hand, opening it and spreading a copious amount on the other's cock before abandoning it immediately. 

So many times, Hannibal had pressed them together without a thought of readying himself. Just the need to be closer. He had allowed himself to hurt at Will's touch. And now Will was allowing the same. He moved slowly as he rolled them again, pinning Hannibal to the bed before sinking down on the other's cock. Hannibal's protests were silenced by Will's lips as they came together in a way so familiar and beautiful that Will barely felt the burn. 

He had barely begun to move when Hannibal managed to pull away from his lips, grasping Will's face between his hands. 

"Look at me," He said quietly and Will's eyes flew open. 

His heart skipped in his chest and he was certain his breath hitched, seeing Hannibal so beautifully open under him. 

"Hi," He found himself saying, greeting the sight under him aloud. 

Hannibal smiled fondly, his fingers kneading Will's scalp. "Hello, Will." 

One of his hands moved lower, grasping Will's hip, while the other stayed in his hair. Their eyes stayed locked as Will began to move, guided gently by Hannibal. The other ran his fingers through Will's curls, his eyes roaming over his face adoringly. Will couldn't help but focus on the other, watching every twitch of his kiss swollen lips and the way his eyes moved, taking in all of Will's face before their gazes locked again. He was barely aware of the movements of his own body, just the way they felt together. 

He barely cared when the two of them rolled, finding himself on his side. Hannibal purposefully stuck his arm under Will's head, letting it serve as his pillow. Their eyes were still locked as Hannibal's hips moved in time with his own, the two of them moving slowly overall. He was reminded of before he went to Louisiana, and the distinct feeling he had of making love. This felt exactly the same.

Well, almost. 

He found Hannibal's other hand, not caring that his hip felt cold without the other's touch, and laced their fingers together. 

Hannibal smiled softly at him, shifting forward to press their lips together. 

Will felt his ring shift in Hannibal's grasp and he remembered the rings he had been carrying with him. He rolled them again, ignoring the way Hannibal huffed slightly as he pulled away, to dig through the bedside table and pull the box out. He disentangled their hands but kept himself firmly on the other's cock. Hannibal, seeming curious as to what he was up to, sat up, shifting them both and impaling Will further. He groaned slightly, one hand clinging to Hannibal's shoulder while the other wrestled the ring from its container. He deposited the box carefully, turning his attention back to Hannibal. 

He grasped the other's left hand, turning it so it was palm up, and setting the ring gently in the other's grasp. 

"You asked me to marry you," He whispered, wrapping his legs around the other. They were so close, so terribly close, and Will found it was the best time to offer a chance to be even closer. "Now it's my turn." Hannibal was staring at the ring in his grasp as though it was the most precious thing he had ever seen, aside from Will. "It was my grandfather's." Hannibal's attention returned to him. "Marry me?" 

"Yes," Hannibal breathed, shifting to move the ring, helped by Will. Together, they slid the ring onto his hand where it fit perfectly. 

"It's not-" Will began, but was immediately cut off by Hannibal. 

"It's perfect." 

The two fell back onto the bed as Hannibal's mouth found his once more. 

He barely even noticed the movements of their bodies anymore. He only noticed Hannibal and their bodies pressed together. He only noticed the way they were lost in each other and the way they fit so perfectly together. Minutes could have passed or hours or even days by the time he found himself standing at that familiar edge. 

He dragged Hannibal over with him. 

Even after they fell over the edge, both sticky with sweat and come, they couldn't keep apart. He wasn't even certain how long it took, if long at all, for them to become hard again and to fall back into a familiar exercise. 

And then again. 

And again. 

And again. 

They had to peel themselves apart the next morning. Will was half dead on his feet as he entered the shower, leaning on Hannibal the whole time. 

"Get dressed," Hannibal breathed against his neck, inhaling just before he spoke. "You can sleep in the car." 

"Car?" Will asked around a yawn.

"Yes. We're checking out today." 

"And going where?" He blinked rapidly in the morning sun as Hannibal opened the curtains. 

"Switzerland."

* * *

Beau had returned to his home, seven dogs in tow, two weeks prior. And everything had been eerily quiet since his return. He supposed no news was good news as he watched for an update every night but it seemed the FBI knew no more than he did. No one had any leads on Will or Hannibal and nothing came of the rumors of Abigail Hobbs.

All in all, it seemed as though his son, future son-in-law, and granddaughter had escaped narrowly. 

By the skin of their teeth. 

Part of him had wanted to advise Will to go sooner, given the fact that he knew his son was on borrowed time in the US anyway. But he had coveted his time, knowing that he wouldn't have much more of it. He was glad though, that he had the chance to pass along his parents' rings. After meeting Abigail, he had a feeling that his mother's ring would be put to good use. 

Beau went to work, went fishing, did everything he normally did. Except drink. He had only drank to keep up the idea of normalcy with Will who had been drinking since his late teens, though Beau never let on that he knew. He went out every morning and night with the dogs, his own poor Lily being supported by seven new siblings. Every day he watched the news, and every night he went to sleep thinking that he was glad, yet somewhat saddened, at the lack of news of Will. He knew he would probably never hear from him as any contact would likely be traced back to him. 

He had accepted his goodbye. 

So, he expected that when he returned home that night, nothing would be any different. He would walk the dogs, watch the news, make dinner, watch the news, let the dogs out, watch the news, and then go to bed. 

That's not what happened. 

The moment he stepped into his house, everything went black. 

And when he woke, it was far too bright. 

Fluorescent light bright. 

He blinked at the lights above him, feeling something clinging to his nose and something else grasping his hand. He shifted uncomfortably, seeing nothing but white around him. 

Until he looked to his right. 

There was Will, his son. He was sitting halfway on a chair, his head pillowed on his shoulder, and his hand clasped with Beau's. There was another chair next to him and as he began to realize that the person in front of him was very, very real, the door to his room opened. Hannibal strode him, obviously trying to be quiet at first until he caught a glimpse of Beau. 

"You're awake," He greeted, moving around the bed to the chair at Will's side and setting the drinks in his hand down first before lowering himself into the chair and gently prodding Will awake. "Darling," Beau heard him whisper. "He's awake." 

Will shifted in his chair, his hand flexing as his eyes blinked open, turning to greet Beau with a soft smile. 

"Well don't look so shocked," He muttered sleepily, grasping one of the coffees that Hannibal offered. "You said it wasn't goodbye." 


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character death in this chapter.

Hannibal had never been happier to fold Will into his arms than he had the day Will's father woke up.

It had taken some careful planning and maneuvering, difficult when his every other second was dedicated to Will, even when the man wasn't in his presence. Will was his world, the person he adored more than anything, valued more than his own life. And he never thought it possible. So, when he realized that he had unconsciously cataloged a strange but familiar smell on Beau, he knew he couldn't leave the man to never been seen again. Beau, if he had his way, would have died alone and without Will's knowledge. And that just wouldn't do. He had once saved Bella, but that was to keep Jack distracted and away from him. His reasons still were selfish for wanting to save Beau. He knew it would hurt Will terribly to find that his father had died alone without him knowing. He wanted to save Beau for Will. 

Will was reluctant to leave the hospital after they arrived, but his other surprise was enough to beckon him from his father's side. Hannibal was surprised to find an extra dog waiting for them, a blind dog named Lily, but that was overshadowed by Will practically being attacked by a group of very happy dogs. Will had spent every day in the hospital until his father woke, arriving early in the morning and leaving late at night, even with the dogs. Though Hannibal supposed the dogs were the only reason he left at all. And Hannibal was content to stay by his side. Often, he found himself reading with Will dosing on his shoulder as they waited. 

Chiyoh was the reason Beau had been whisked from the US and to better medical care. It had taken something within him that he didn't realize he still had when he reached out to Chiyoh. He could never go home, but perhaps he could release another from its grasp. Her tenant would live, or he wouldn't. And that was no longer Hannibal nor Chiyoh's worry. Chiyoh hadn't stayed with her newfound freedom, in fact, she and Hannibal didn't see each other face to face. Beau was taken from the US, dogs included, and all were settled by the time he and Will arrived. After they arrived, it was only a waiting game with the intense regimen that Beau was on to see when he would wake again. 

And he woke seeming considerably better than when Hannibal had last seen him. 

If Hannibal had to do it all over again, he would. If nothing more than to see the joy on Will's face once again. He had seen it a few times before, the unrestrained, unparalleled joy that Will offered. He had seen it when he found him once more, and he had seen it when Will offered the ring. The same ring that Hannibal had stared at for days, loving everything behind it. He did enjoy aesthetically pleasing things, and the ring was most certainly one of them. But that wasn't the value. It was who it belonged to and that Will loved him enough to give it to him. To have a family heirloom adoring Hannibal's hand. It was about the physical reminder of their bond that Hannibal fell asleep with every night and woke up with every morning. 

And the night after Will's father woke, he knew he had done the right thing. 

Will folded into him so perfectly, feeling the way their bodies melted together. Will had barely slept since he saw his father, but he slept beautifully once more. 

Hannibal had never felt happier. 

The following month, Beau was in remission. 

The month after that, Will and Hannibal were officially married. It was a smaller ceremony than Hannibal would have liked. How he would have loved to parade Will around for everyone to see. How he would have loved to tell the world that Will Graham was his and only his. How he would have loved to see the look on people's faces seeing that Hannibal had found the most beautiful creature on the planet and made him his own. And while he would do that in his own way, he was still pleased with the relatively small ceremony. There was a grand total of nine guests, most of whom were canines. Beau had been there, beaming with pride as he stood behind his son. 

Hannibal and Beau fell into a tentative peace with each other. He knew he would never fully win over Beau, but he had won him over in the ways that mattered. Beau trusted him with the person who mattered most, Will, knowing that Hannibal would still protect him once he was gone. 

Thankfully, Beau had a few more years to spent with his son and Hannibal had hundreds of more dinners to turn his father-in-law to his side. 

The next month, after an all too short honeymoon, Hannibal secured him and Will a new life. 

What a strange turn of events that had been for Roman Fell though. It had taken careful information planting to convince the world that Roman Fell's wife had run off with another. Eventually, as he took over the life of Roman Fell including a job in Florence, a city that he so adored, introduced Will as his new lover. 

Days turned into weeks, with mornings spent with Hannibal selfishly memorizing Will's body for his own over and over again. Weeks turned into months with the two of them never seeming to have their fill of each other. Months were filled with days spent with Will in his arms and an army of dogs to watch over them as they slept. Holidays came and went, with Abigail finding her way to them when she was ready. Holidays became birthdays, the first ones in years Hannibal bothered celebrating. 

And birthdays became anniversaries. 

Kills were exchanged between them, Will coming into his own as the beautiful, brutal, vicious predator Hannibal had seen under his skin the very first time they met.

Hannibal sculpted him homage after homage, finding ways to dedicate every kill, every meal, every breath to Will. And Will was content to stay at his side, to love him, to accept him for everything he was. He didn't have to hide, not really, not anymore. Not like the last time he had been in Florence. 

Will bloomed beautifully, coming into his own in a way that Hannibal had only dreamed of when they met. 

Months became years. 

Jack Crawford tried to find them. Alana Bloom tried to find them. Frederick Chilton tried to find them. 

Once, Hannibal found himself traveling far from Florence to call the hotline that had been set up in an attempt to find Hannibal. How creative Alana had become. How she too had bloomed after Hannibal's interference. 

It was only after Abigail returned that Will and Hannibal learned the full story. That Alana had found her and Abigail had done what she had to, pushing Alana out the window. 

"I don't want to kill anymore," She said softly, admitting it to Will and Hannibal one dark night. "I don't want that life." 

"Then don't," Will answered. "You are not us. You are not your father. You are Abigail. Whoever you are, is for you to decide. You decide the life you build for yourself." 

"How do you know?" She asked, glancing from the fire to Will's eyes. 

"Because I did." Will's beautiful ocean eyes slid to Hannibal.

Bella Crawford died. 

Mason Verger vanished mysteriously. 

Will and Frederick Chilton crossed paths in a dark alley. 

Hannibal sent a letter to Jack, mailing it from far away to offer his condolences about Bella. There were few people in the world who Hannibal truly respected, but Jack and Bella Crawford were among them. Jack had been his friend and Bella was one of the few people that even he wouldn't wish harm on. She was one of the few people he had actually let get away with slapping him. He thought back on the memory fondly, the sting of his cheek, as he slipped the letter into the box. 

Alana Bloom-Verger had a child, a boy. 

Frederick Chilton's body was discovered in the same place Will had left Anthony Dimmond's body, though Frederick was afforded more respect than Dimmond who had been torn apart, his tongue nailed to cross. Hannibal had made love to Will the whole night after Dimmond's body was found. 

He sent a letter to Alana, congratulating her on her child. 

He was surprised to find a letter in return, waiting for him at the same place he had mailed it. 

_Could I have ever understood you?_ Was all the letter said. 

One year turned into two. 

When Beau's cancer returned, he didn't fight it. He wasn't saddened to say goodbye this time, holding Will's hand tightly. 

"Hannibal," He said softly from his bed. "I think I finally like you." 

Beau was buried on a Saturday morning.

Two weeks later, a letter arrived for Will. Hannibal read it over his shoulder. 

> _Hey kiddo,_
> 
> _Yeah, it's dear old dad. Still here to give you advice even after I'm gone. But really, I'm not gone am I? I'm always a part of you, living on through you._
> 
> _I wanted you to know, these last two years were a gift I never thought I would be given. I'm so proud of you and the man you've become. You are my son, Will, and I would have always loved and supported you no matter what you did. But seeing who you became was a greater gift than I could have imagined. I'm not saying I agreed or approved, but deep down, I always knew. And I know you knew that I did. When you were a little boy, I knew you would grow up extraordinary. You could see what the world couldn't. I thought I was going to die with my greatest regret being that I couldn't do for you what you did for others. I could always see what you couldn't. How much more to you there always was._
> 
> _Hannibal, I know you're reading this too._
> 
> _I want you to know that I am glad you came into my son's life. I still don't know how I feel about the cannibalism, but I do know that you gave me a gift I didn't even know that I wanted._
> 
> _Seeing Will, the child scared of himself turned into the strong confident man he is, was the best gift I was ever given._
> 
> _I love you, Will. I always have. And I will always be with you._
> 
> _I'll see you again._
> 
> _Remember, this isn't goodbye._
> 
> _-Dad_

Hannibal held Will as he cried.

Years stretched before and around them, pulling them along with it. 

Hannibal had once told Will that age was the one animal that ate them all. He was quite glad to see the feast that it made of Will. 

Will's hair began to turn silver and his eyes wrinkled more than before. And Hannibal had never seen anything as beautiful. 

Hannibal honestly never thought he would grow old. He certainly thought he would die before having the chance. And now, he would die a million deaths to continue enjoying every day he grew older with Will at his side. He drew him, he memorized him, he knew that if it ever came a point where his mind was lost to him, his memory palace faded, he would always remember Will. His Will. He had never truly wanted to grow old. Who wanted to? But he never understood until it happened to him just how beautiful it was to grow old with someone. 

Will was his world, everything he wanted to wake to in the morning and everything he longed to hold as he fell asleep. 

They killed until they couldn't anymore. Until their bodies could no longer handle the hunt. 

The scars they had left on one another, bites and scratches and even smile lines; became more evident on waning skin. 

And still, Hannibal had never seen anything as beautiful. 

They left Florence eventually, making for Cuba to spend what would be the rest of their lives in a warmer climate. 

Will took them out on boat rides, the two of them bathing in the warm Atlantic air. He heard tales of Will's childhood spent on boatyards and the winters spent in the heat of New Orleans. Will told him about what his life had been like before he met Hannibal and how he felt lucky to have someone he loved so much at his side. 

The years had softened Will when it came to Hannibal. Though he was still rough around the edges, rude, and feral when it came to others, he would look at Hannibal worshipfully. Eventually, Hannibal realized yet another way they were alike. They had found religion in each other, each finding their god wrapped in the monsters and men of each other. 

And when it became evident that soon, they could no longer do that, they decided on one last kill. 

Who was better fitting to be their final hunter than each other? Who was better to take their final breaths? 

"Hannibal," Will said softly, pressing their bodies close together. "Are you certain?" 

"With you," Hannibal answered, pulling Will's familiar body closer. "I am always certain." 

"Look at me," Will entreated softly, pulling himself away. 

And Hannibal did. He looked into those brilliant ocean eyes which had never dulled over the years. He studied those familiar curls, now more grey than brown. He studied the curve of the other's lips and every twitch of his skin. He studied the other's body and the way it curved against his own even after all these years. They had grown old, but never apart. He had woken in the morning in Will's embrace, the same embrace he stood in now, and the same one he had known for so many years since the day Will brought Randall Tier's body. 

"I love you," Hannibal whispered, raising his hand to once more run his hand through Will's hair. 

"I love you too," Will answered. "I always have." 

"Then don't cry, my dear," Hannibal wiped the stray tear from Will's cheek. "I have always stayed with you. And you with me. Not even death will change that." 

He felt the familiar knife twisting in his hand, a weight he hadn't held in years. But the knife wasn't the point. Not even its counterpart in Will's hand was the point. It was quite literally, the heart in each other's hands. The hearts that when their bodies were found, would have each other's names emblazoned on them. He had met his god, he had lived a life worshipping him, and he would see him in another life, an eternity spent together. They were forever bound, staying together even in death. Neither could live without the other, not truly. And neither would have preferred to die another way. 

Hannibal pulled Will's head forward, their foreheads meeting between them. 

"Stay with me," Will whispered his body twitching against Hannibal's as they raised the knives in tandem. 

"You are my home, Will Graham. I will never leave." 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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